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Autobiography and Work of Bishop M. F. Jamison, D.D. (“Uncle Joe”)
Editor, Publisher, and Church Extension Secretary; a Narration of His Whole Career
from the Cradle to the Bishopric of the Colored M. E. Church in America:
Electronic Edition.Jamison, M. F. (Monroe Franklin), 1848-1918Funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities
supported the electronic publication of this title.Text scanned (OCR) byChris HillImages scanned byChris HillText encoded by Lee Ann Morawski and Natalia SmithFirst edition, 2000ca. 300KAcademic Affairs Library, UNC-CHUniversity of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2000.

Autobiography and Work of Bishop M. F. Jamison, D. D. (“Uncle Joe”),
Editor, Publisher, and Church Extrension Secretary, A Narration of his Whole Career from the Cradle
to the Bishopric of the Colored M. E. Church in America. Autobiography and
Work of Bishop M. F. Jamison, D. D. (“Uncle Joe”)M. F. Jamison206 p., ill.Nashville, Tenn. Publishing House of the M. E. Church, South1912Call number BX 8473 .J35 A3 (Ira J. Taylor Library, the Iliff School of Theology, Denver, Colorado)

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AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND WORK OF
BISHOP M. F. JAMISON
(“UNCLE JOE”)AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND WORK
OF
Bishop M. F. Jamison, D.D.
(“UNCLE JOE”)EDITOR, PUBLISHER, AND CHURCH
EXTENSION SECRETARYA NARRATION OF HIS WHOLE CAREER FROM
THE CRADLE TO THE BISHOPRIC OF
THE COLORED M. E. CHURCH
IN AMERICAPRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR
PUBLISHING HOUSE OF THE M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH
SMITH & LAMAR, PUBLISHING AGENTSNASHVILLE, TENN.1912COPYRIGHT, 1912
BY
M. F. JAMISON
INTRODUCTION.

IT is true that a complete history of an individual cannot
be written while he yet lives. As a full estimate of
his true worth and of the effectiveness of his work in the
world can be made only after he has passed into the
great beyond, yet it is possible in a considerable degree
to separate him from his environments and stand him forth
conspicuously as the central figure and tell the story of his
personal career. Especially may this be true in the case
of a distinct personality like that of Bishop M. F. Jamison,
D.D., that shines with a luster of the first magnitude among
the galaxy of ecclesiastical stars.

Bishop Jamison, known for his predominance as “Uncle
Joe,” and for his tact and tenacious grasp in dealing with
men and measures known also as “Fighting Joe,” for many
years has been one of the most eminent men of his time.
In the ordinary pursuits of life for a livelihood, while but
a youth he was thrifty and industrious. As a leader among
men he ranks in the foremost circle; as a thinker he
has but few equals and no superiors; as a pastor and presiding
elder he was the standard by which men were
measured; as Church Extension Secretary he set the pace
and marked out the way by which men yet follow;
as editor of the Christian Index, the official organ of the
Colored Methodist Episcopal Church, and also as editor and
publisher of the Christian Advocate of the East Texas Conference,
he proved himself a man of business and a writer
of the first rank.

On the floor of many a General Conference, true to his
honest conviction and unswerving in principle, with his
invincible arguments which sent conviction to the hearts
of his hearers he won for himself such admiration that
he was elevated to the highest station in the gift of his
Church—the bishopric.

To read the history of such a character as is here
portrayed will indeed be of much pleasure and profit to the
reader. Such is the character essayed in the compass of
this volume, which I take pleasure in commending to the
thousands who may read its pages.

GEORGE L. TYUS,
President Texas College.Tyler, Tex., June 5, 1912
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Birthplace—Parentage—Chance to Obtain an Education
Made Poor by Slavery—Providential Escape
from Death while a Child—Mother Sold from Home
—United States Mail Rider—Story of Slavery . . . . . 17CHAPTER II.
The Civil War on the Eve of Closing—Carrying the
News of the Approaching Yankees—News of Freedom
—Death of Lincoln . . . . . 28CHAPTER III.
New Aspect of Things—Some Conditions That I Observed
in the Camps Which Corrupted the Morals of
Negro Women—On Government Works Down in
Mobile—Experience in a Hospital—Learning to Hate
Strong Drinks. . . . . 32CHAPTER IV.
Leaving Home and Going to the Yankees—My First
Lover—Religious Awakening among the People—
Rage of Smallpox—Death of Mother—Converted and
Joined the Church—Call to the Ministry. . . . . 43CHAPTER V.
Visit to Rome, Ga., in 1871—Money Exhausted while in
Rome—On Gravel Train under Hard Boss—Roustabout
on a Steamboat—Last Bloody Fight—Narrow
Escape from Death as Brakeman on a Freight Train
—The Ku-Klux Klan. . . . . 55CHAPTER VI.
Attended an A. M. E. Annual Conference—Negro Politics
and Religion in the Church—Days of Courtship—
Talk on the Marriage Relation among Negroes—Defeated
in Love—Down in Mobile Grading on the
Grand Trunk Line—Met Old Lover while Spending
the Summer in Uniontown—Voted for General Grant
and Supported the Republican State Ticket in 1872. . . . . 62CHAPTER VII.
Moved to Texas in 1872—Landed in Texas at Greenwood,
but Settled Down at Marshall—Disappointed
with Texas and Started Back to Alabama—Broke
Brother's Leg while Splitting Rails to Get Back to
Alabama—Exhorting and Preaching. . . . . 69CHAPTER VIII.
Admitted on Trial into the East Texas Conference—My
First Appointment—Marriage—Struggles with Other
Denominations in Dallas—Built the First Colored
Church in Dallas—Why Called “Fighting Joe”—My
First Appointment as Presiding Elder. . . . . 80CHAPTER IX.
The East Texas Conference—Editor and Publisher of
the East Texas Conference Christian Advocate—On
the Tyler District as Presiding Elder. . . . . 101CHAPTER X.
Some Remarks on Trial by Committee and on the Duty
of the President. . . . . 106CHAPTER XI.
Leaving the Western Section—Divisions Found in the
Shiloh Church—Events at Henderson—Out among
the Brethren in Their Revival Meetings and Holding
Quarterly Conferences. . . . . 110CHAPTER XII.
Annual Conference of 1878—Reappointed Presiding
Elder of the Tyler District—Move the Christian
Advocate Plant to Tyler and Turn It Over into the
Hands of the Texas Conference for Publication—
Visit the Louisiana Conference in the Interest of the
Advocate—Spending Christmas in the Country—The
Blue Spring Camp Meeting. . . . . 123CHAPTER XIII.
The Annual Conference of 1880—Defending Rev. Mr.
Lowe—Visiting the Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama
Conferences in the interest of the Christian Index
and the Christian Advocate—Spending Christmas
in Dallas. . . . . 134CHAPTER XIV.
Political Issues of 1880—In the Camp Meetings—An
Amusing Incident in Time of Feast—Discourse with
a Campbellite on “What Must a Sinner Do to Be
Saved?”. . . . . 143CHAPTER XV.
Elected Delegate to the General Conference of 1882—
Annual Conference Resumes Management of the
Advocate—Elected Editor of the Christian Advocate. . . . . 150CHAPTER XVI.
Off to Washington, D. C., to the General Conference—
Scenes and Incidents along the Line—Preached in
Little Rock, Memphis, and Louisville while on the
Way to Washington—Viewing the Spot Where Garfield
Fell when Shot by Charles Guiteau. . . . . 152CHAPTER XVII.
Work of the General Conference of 1882—My Resolution
to Aid Israel Chapel Adopted by the General Conference—
Visiting Congress, the Supreme Court, and
Other Places of Interest in Washington, D. C. . . . . 167CHAPTER XVIII.
The Annual Conference of 1882—Difficulty with the
Bishop over Financial Matters—The Conferences of
1883 and 1884—Period of Work on Circuits and Stations
Made Memorable—Acting as Counselor for
Some of the Brethren. . . . . 175CHAPTER XIX.
Transferred to the West Texas Conference—Presiding
Elder of the Dallas District—Pastor of Fort Worth
Station—Down with Pneumonia—Assigned to Weatherford
Station—Birth of Little Roscoe Conkling
Jamison. . . . . 186CHAPTER XX.
Advocating a Church Extension Board—Made Honorary
Member of the General Conference of 1890—
Elected Secretary of Church Extension. . . . . 189CHAPTER XXI.
Work of Church Extension—Elected Editor of the
Christian Index. . . . . 192CHAPTER XXII.
Death of Bishop W. H. Miles—The General Conference
of 1894—Election of Bishops and General Officers—
Defeat of Church Extension—Rapid Development of
Factions. . . . . 194
ILLUSTRATIONS
BISHOP M.F. JAMISON. . . . . FrontispieceMRS. M.A. JAMISON, WIFE OF BISHOP JAMISON. . . . . 35BUGLE CLUB OF TEXAS COLLEGE, 1900. . . . . 65WEST TEXAS C.M.E. CONFERENCE, DALLAS, TEX., 1911. . . . . 95ROSCOE C. JAMISON. . . . . 125RESIDENCE OF BISHOP JAMISON. . . . . 155TEXAS COLLEGE, GIRLS' DORMITORY. . . . . 183
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BISHOP M. F. JAMISON.
CHAPTER I.

Birthplace—Parentage—Chance to Obtain an Education
Made Poor by Slavery—Providential Escape from Death
while a Child—Mother Sold from Home—United States
Mail Rider—Story of Slavery.

IN the sunny hills of Georgia, the Empire State of the
South, near the city of Rome, I was born a
slave November 27, 1848. My father and mother,
George and Lethia Shorter, were owned as slaves by a
Mr. Alford Shorter. Mr. Shorter having moved from
Georgia to Greensport, Ala., my mother and her two
sons, Frank (the writer) and John, were sold to a Mr.
Eli Denson.

By virtue of the many evils which accompanied slavery
and the period of time which it held me within its
grasp, it was impossible for me to obtain an education
in the plastic period of my life. The first incident of
my childhood which I can recall from experience was
strange and perilous in the extreme. When I was
but four years of age my mother and some other women
were washing near a deep well. I being a lively and
mischievous prattler, to keep me from this well, which
was almost full of water, was a hard task. Finally,
when no one was suspecting any danger, while playing
I tumbled into the well. As I was about to drown—
in fact, sinking the last time—they discovered it. A
rush was made, and they succeeded in rescuing me from the
well. They rolled me in blankets while I was in a
state of absolute unconsciousness and seemed really to
be in another world. While in this unconscious state
I shall never forget the strange visions which greeted
my sight. The whole of the sixth chapter of Zechariah
became visible to me. The horses were rushing to and
fro as described in that chapter. O what a sight!
The mountains were truly brass and appeared so terribly
grand. Flying chariots came rushing with their
red, black, white, grizzled, and bay horses. It was
always a great wonder to me, and I have wondered a
thousand times why it was revealed to me at such a
time. I have never been able to fathom its import.
It seemed that I could have remained there always with
perfect ease. I decided that it must have been the
“borderland;” and if so, I feel, with the experience of
time, that I was in a very unsafe land—a land of war
and strife with all the attending evils.

Now, it would have been far better to have passed
on to the land beyond or swing back to earth again,
for a borderland is the most unsafe land in which to
dwell on account of its roaming herds of wild beasts,
marauding, vicious men, and dangers too numerous to
mention. Yet there are thousands of Christians today
who are dwelling in the borderland, in the twilight,
between the Church and the world. Some may
think this unreasonable; and if so, they have but to reflect
a moment and consider how the sinner must of
necessity cross the borderland in coming to Christ. If
he stops and remains in the borderland, he never
enjoys peace with God, but dies a horrible death, because
Christ cannot save the sinner in that land which borders
Canaan. It is true that by his Spirit he assists
the sinner in passing through, but the sinner does not
enjoy full salvation until he passes the border line.

While living near Greensport I was mail rider between
Greensport and Asheville. In those days there
were no mail robbers as now, hence I was never disturbed.

These were the golden days of my youth; but about
this time Mr. Denson's son Willie ran heels over head
in debt, which almost bankrupted his father. This necessitated
the selling of several of his slaves, among
whom was my mother. A most interesting feature of
this sale was how it was effected. The white people
pretended to have very urgent business in Rome, Ga.,
seventy-five miles from Greensport, so they fitted up
things for a round trip overland. They carried with
them three or four of their slaves, mother in the number.
At the appointed time all returned home except
my mother and another, though my old Mrs. Polly
continued to promise me that my mother would certainly
return at such and such a time. For about two
months she kept my poor heart assured of mother's
return; but finally her promises lost their effect on my
mind, so to sit by her and cry about mother became
a part of my daily life. After a long time word came
that my mother had been sold to a Mr. Robert Jamison,
who lived six miles northeast of Talladega, Ala.
I am not sure that my old Mrs. Polly knew up to this
time where my mother really was. At any rate, I
disturbed her so that she compelled old man Denson to
take Frank and John to their mother and to attempt
a trade with old man Jamison which would bring us
all together. The Densons were Christians of the first
class, and could not bear the idea of separating mother
and children.

Purchasing a new suit of clothes for each of us, old
man Denson started for Mr. Robert Jamison's, carrying
Frank and John along with him. A day's drive in
a buggy landed us at Mr. Jamison's. It was a pretty
place, really beautiful—a large farm with nice
surroundings. But there was something of a novelty about
it to the newcomers. What was it? Why, the cotton
patch—no, not patch, but field. We had never seen
cotton grown upon such a large scale before. We were
once more with mother, however, and that fact absorbed
all things. Mother was the house waiter and among
the first to meet and embrace us. We were at last contented,
and retired with the hope that we would ever be
with mother thereafter.

Bright and early the next morning we were at the
horse lot playing and leaping like harts. While we
were thus engaged the two old white men were trying
to effect a trade for us. But they disagreed as to the
prices to be paid, and about ten o'clock we were called
to get ready to start away.

“Where are you going with us, master?” inquired
Frank. “Going to Talladega,” was the soft answer.
This almost killed me, hence I resumed my crying.
It was quite painful to Mr. Denson, for he tried repeatedly
to pacify me, and at times seemed almost
ready to join me in my weeping. “O,” thought he,
“slavery is an eternal curse !” John was too young to
comprehend the situation, hence he was as cheerful as a
lark and many times tried to assist Mr. Denson in
quieting me; but it was all useless, for I felt that I
must cry, and cry I did.

We finally reached Talladega, and were soon being
examined by many who thought of buying us. But I
cried so, it is said, that I broke the hearts of them
all. It was the high price asked that prevented the
getting together. I was but nine years of age, yet Mr.
Denson wanted eight hundred and fifty dollars for me or sixteen
hundred dollars for the two. No one bought
us, so we were left in the hands of Messrs. Best and
Stone, two traders. They were to sell us if an opportunity
permitted. Mr. Stone took Frank to his home
in the city, and Mr. Tom Best did the same with
John. Thus it became worse than ever, for each of us
had a different home. I finally settled down to things
and took them easily.

Neither of these traders kept more than three or four
servants at his home, for they had farms miles away
from town. I was a young priest about the house of
Mr. Stone. They used to send me to the little field
near which the white boys' college stood (now the college
of colored boys and girls) to sprout and knock
down cotton stalks.

There was a young girl who was subject to fits. She
was sent with me, and while we were chatting one day
she had a fit. Not knowing anything about fits, I
thought she was playing some sort of a new prank on
me, so I gathered a switch and began whipping her.
Fortunately, there was a man plowing near by who
came to her rescue and assisted her in some way, I know
not how, but he brought her to her senses.

The white boys at the college were numerous and
of all kinds. Many bloody fights often occurred among
them. Colored boys had no show in those days, as
reading and writing was unknown among them. It
was not lawful for negroes to read and write; and if
some should happen to steal a chance to learn it from
the white boys, they endangered their sight, for in some
cases their eyes were put out. Very much depended
upon the kindness of their owners. Thus my chance to
become educated was indeed limited.

But now spring came, and everybody had to chop
cotton. So they carried Frank and his brother John
to the plantation of Mr. Tom Best, nine miles northeast
of Talladega. Here we were shown for the first
time the true meaning of slavery. All our lives we
had been free as compared to the treatment received at
Mr. Tom Best's.

There were two overseers, a Mr. Taylor, a white man,
and Aunt Harrietta Best, a colored woman. Of the
two, the white man was the kinder and easier to please.
Aunt Harrietta, as she was called, was the most cruel
creature in the form of a human being that I had ever
seen. She would cut and slay right and left. During
each day she would lay it on to some of us. In fact,
we children took her for the devil untied, and we were
not much mistaken.

Near Mr. Best's farm lived a Mr. Gooden, whose
overseer carried with him wherever he went a little
black fellow about five years of age. Many a hot day
this man would bring this little chap into the field and
cause him to preach to the boys, about fifteen in number.
He would preach and preach; and when well in
the midst of his sermon, he would shout aloud: “My
heart's alive! My heart's alive!” O, it was certainly
amusing to the newcomers, who would be hoeing cotton,
two in a row. This little fellow created so much
mirth that even Aunt Harrietta would smile. I say
smile because she laughed very seldom. I shall never
forget Aunt Harrietta.

While all this devilment was going on out at Tom
Best's, my mother was praying for her boys to return
to her. Her prayers were answered, for in September
of the same year Mr. Jamison bought us (the boys).

Thus ended the first twelve years of my life. Up
to this time I knew not God, and really did not know
there was a God. True, I can remember something
of mother's going to church with the white people, and
sometimes I went along with them; but I could not
understand the preacher, for the people, white and
colored, all shouted so while he preached. When mother
shouted, I would cry. That I was so devoted to her,
I guess, accounted for it.

The situation at Mr. Jamison's was entirely different
and presented a new state of things. Mr. Robert
Jamison was an old man about seventy years of age.
His first wife having died, he made the mistake which
is so common among men and women nowadays—
that is, marrying persons much younger than themselves.
He married a Miss Sallie Hankle, who became
the mother of three beautiful children. I loved her;
for of all the boys, I appeared to be her favorite. It was
here that I formed the best associations of my youth.

Old man Jamison, being too old and frail to attend to the
farm, had overseers, of course; and he also had men who
never allowed any man to whip them but their master.
So whenever he employed overseers he would tell them
whom they could whip and whom they could not whip.
But at times the overseers would go beyond their limits
and attempt to whip those who were forbidden to be
whipped. Then there was somebody hurt; for if Bob
Anderson and others were tackled, they would fight at
any cost the man who attempted to whip them. I was
but a boy, yet I remember that once it rained too
much to go to the field, so we all worked the road.
Dave Irvin was overseer—a mean, selfish bigot. That
morning he concluded that he was authorized to whip
going and coming. Being young and foolish, he was
going to whip Bob. He commanded him to lay aside
his shovel and come out. “Lay off your coat, sir; I am
going to whip you this morning.” “No; no man whips
me but old master,” said Bob. Bob knocked him down,
and would have beaten him shamefully had he not been
taken off of him. Irvin cried out for help, but we
laughed. As soon as Irvin was freed from Bob he went
for old master, requesting him to come down and correct
Bob. O, it was so cruel of Mr. Jamison to leave
Bob to the mercy of that beastly Dave Irvin, yet that
is what he did. He tied Bob, stripped him, and told
the beastly Dave to take his satisfaction out of him.
Dave whipped him until we all felt like going out there
in the woods and putting an end to him, let come what
might. The greatest objection I had to old man Jamison
was his disregard for the feelings and rights of
men because they were slaves. It was not a question of
justice when it came to a dispute between overseers and
slaves. He always took it for granted that the overseers
were right, and generally gave one over into their
hands; and therefore many negroes went to the woods or
ran away before submitting to it.

They had an old man by the name of Dick Jamison
who was known as head man. He had two sons, Bob
and Noah Anderson. His only daughter was Patsy.
She was really pretty and, indeed, beautiful to behold.
Dave Irvin, the overseer, outraged her by brute force.
For this act the bitterest hatred was heaped upon him.

Old man Dick was Mr. Jamison's most trusted servant;
yet he was deceptive, and would sometimes get
even with those whom he disliked by falsely telling
tales. John, Orange, Elisha, Noah, Stephen, John (my
brother), and Steve were my equals as playmates. Noah
was near my size; and many times did he contend manfully
in fights with me, but could never become winner
in a single round. So one day we fought one of the
hardest of all our fights. Old man Dick, his father,
must have witnessed this fight, which was our last one.
Both of us felt perfectly willing to close the fighting
scenes thereafter, but old man Dick promised himself
to even up with me. How to succeed in so doing was
the question. I suppose it must have been twelve
months or more before his opportunity presented itself,
but to my sorrow it came at last. It being the season of
fodder-pulling, old Uncle Charles and I were left at
the house to pack away the fodder as it was brought
in from the field. It happened to be so one day when
Mr. Jamison decided to go visiting. Steve was the boy
who generally drove the master's carriage. The horses
were usually turned into the pasture, except those
that were to be used for the carriage. On this day
these were left in the lot, and of course had to be watered
at noon. Old man Dick had his son Noah and
me to take them to water. This being done, I inquired
what should be done with them after watering. “Put them
in the pasture,” was the answer. So away I went
to put mine in the pasture; but Noah was told, after I
had gone, to put his back in the lot. Somebody was
acting wrongly, because if one went to the pasture both
should go; but I contented myself with the fact that
I was obeying the orders of the head man. Noah was
too, but I did not know it. I was ignorant of the trap
into which they were getting me. I was absolutely innocent
as to any wrong intention. At about half past
two o'clock in the afternoon there was a great stir downstairs
in the barn. We stopped to learn what the trouble
was, and found that it was Steve and old master
ripping and roaring about one of the horses being gone.
“Where is the horse?” said old master. “In the pasture,”
answered Steve. “Who put him in there?” he
asked. “Frank,” answered Steve. “Where's Frank?”
was asked. “He's overhead in the loft packing fodder,”
said Steve. “Bring him down here,” said old
master. “Frank,” said Steve, “old master said come
down there.” I went down, and then old master was
on me like a “duck on a June bug.” He pinched me,
pulled my ears, gouged my eyes, kicked and abused
me shamefully. All this he did before hearing a word
from me in my defense. Finally I got a chance to say:
“Uncle Dick told me to put him in the pasture.”
Then he turned off, saying he would ask Dick, and if
Dick denied it he would whip me to-morrow. Uncle
Dick was out in the fodder field. I went aloft and told
Uncle Charles what master said he would do in case
old man Dick denied telling me to put the horse in
the pasture. “You will be whipped again then,” said
he, “for old Dick will be mighty apt to deny it.”

Night came, and old master called old man Dick up
to the house. I do not know what passed between
them, but, whatever it was, it proved unfavorable to
me. That much was manifested about noon the next
day. I went to fetch some drinking water. Passing
the front gate on returning, a Mr. —, brother-in-law
of Mr. Jamison, was at the gate under instructions to
detain me until old master came out with his switches.
“Your master said to wait until he returns,” said the
man. “I ain't got time. Uncle Charles told me to hurry
back,” said I; and I was going right on, too, for I
meant no foolishness that day. I felt almost willing
to fight my old master, but was not large enough to
hope to get the best of him; so I stopped upon being
halted by him.

Standing with my pail on my head, I waited to see
what he would do. “Pull off them breeches,” he demanded.
I whined, saying, “I ain't done nothing,” and
I refused to do it; but two men were stronger than one
little boy, hence they soon had my breeches off, and the
old master “wore me out,” saying he would show me
how to resist him after telling him lies. “I don't want
to live wid you,” I murmured. “I will never stay here.
If you don't sell me, I'll go to the Yankees.” “You
will never live to be grown. You will be hung, you
son of a—,” said he.

Thus old man Dick was even with me for whipping
his son Noah.

CHAPTER II.

The Civil War on the Eve of Closing—Carrying the News of
the Approaching Yankees—News of Freedom—Death of
Lincoln.

THE Civil War had been raging in full, and was
now nearing its close. We were all thinking of freedom
and its attendant blessings. Though sad as it may
be and sad as it was, the blessings freedom had in
store for Uncle Dick, Bob, and Anderson were of short
duration; for the war closed in April, 1865, and in
February, 1866, the smallpox broke out in Talladega
and spread over the country around. These and many
others caught it. Many died from the disease, and
among them were old man Dick and Bob and Anderson,
his two grown sons. Hence I lived to see Uncle Dick
taken before God the Just.

Anderson had married a refugee woman in Talladega,
whom he went to see every Saturday evening.
The war had softened the hearts of many white people
or changed their views so that not much objection
was made to negroes visiting their wives.

The Yankees had made several raids through our portion
of Alabama; and at the time of such raids we
would gather up the horses, mules, meat, sugar, coffee,
and flour and go to the mountains. After a few days
the Yankees left, and we returned home with the stock
unhurt. The white people always remained at home
and left the provisions, horses, and mules in our care;
and, as a matter of course, we always cared well for
the stock, but would always eat the best of the provisions.

It was distressing when runners were sent out to
herald the news of the approaching Yankees. One man
would sometimes have to ride fifty miles sounding
the alarm. Coming by our place about four o'clock in
the morning, he would shout: “The Yankees! the Yankees!”
We were up with a bound, for old master was
extending this thrilling cry. The runner would continue
to cry, “The Yankees are coming!” until everybody
on the place was aroused. “O Frank, take a mule
and carry the news to Mr. Carter's; John, you do the
same to your Master Shack's; Adam, you go to Mrs.
Curry's.” Thus old master sent us flying to the neighbors
round about.

I was up and off like a rider myself, for it was in
the pride of my life that I rode that dark morning
before day. I went in a lope all the way to Mr. Carter's,
and attempted to do the same on my return home,
but had not gotten far before reaching a mudhole in
the road. My trusty mule dashed to one side of the
road to shun the mud and ran under the branches of
a tree, which came near resulting in the loss of my eyes.
I was done for that day, Yankees or no Yankees.

Returning home, to my sad surprise everybody had
gone to the mountains. I went straight to my house
and went to bed in great pain. Finally Miss Sallie came
down there and tried to scare me off to the woods by
telling me that the Yankees would catch me and carry
me off from mother; but that eye was giving me more
trouble than I feared would come from the Yankees,
so I kept my bed. The dreaded Yankees failed to come
to our place this time; and at times, acting like a
summer cloud, they went around. One knowing my
age would think that I would have been afraid to make
that trip. But I was my mother's “little man.” Many a
cold night, when the earth was white with snow, did I
go miles away on errands for mother, as I was her tradesman.

Old man Joe Hall lived near us, and I traded a great
deal with his people for my mother. This took me away
from home many rainy nights when it was so dark
that I would have to push along assisted by the light
of the lightning. No, I was not afraid. Indeed, while
writing this (1889) it seems to me that I can hear the
tramping feet as they crushed the snow beneath them in
the cold nights of 1862, 1863, and 1864. I was but a
chump of a boy, too young to court the girls who
loved me.

One day the white folks received good news from the
war, and things about the house wore a different appearance.
Old master was everywhere, cheery and lively;
and, best of all, he was in a good humor. “What's
the news?” “Why, old Lincoln is dead.” “Dar, by
George! I told you boys you would never be free,” said
Adam.

That “good news” plunged us into the deepest gloom.
Not only was Mr. Lincoln dead, but the spirit of the
boys died then and there. But that did not end the war.
The battles went on, and in a few days news—good news—
came that we were all free. Who brought the news?
Why, the birds that chanted on the branches of trees
sang to us the news: “Free, free, free indeed!” “Boys,
wait a while; Anderson will be in from town pretty
soon, and then we shall know the truth of this matter.”

Things looked dead about the big house. Finally Anderson
was sighted. Old master beat us to him.
“What's the news, Anderson?” “Why, master, the town
is full of Yankees, and they told me I was freed from
my master.” “Great heavens! What's that?” All of
the boys sprang into life again.

CHAPTER III.

New Aspect of Things—Some Conditions That I Observed
in the Camps Which Corrupted the Morals of Negro
Women—On Government Works Down in Mobile—
Experience in a Hospital—Learning to Hate Strong Drinks.

FREEDOM now having been declared, a new aspect
of things was readily seen. The old master agreed to
share with the negroes in the crop, and they all agreed
to remain; but I left at once and went to the Yankees.
I was now even with old master for the whipping
he wrongfully gave me. I had never forgotten it.
I wanted none of his crops. I cannot say that my course
was better than that of the others who remained with
old master, for I really think that it would have proved
much more beneficial to my real comfort to have remained
at home; but that unjust thrashing he gave me
stuck to me so intensely that I decided upon the moment
what to do.

I wish to say just here to the reader that the smallpox
which seemed to have swept the country during
the winter of 1865 was, it is sad to say, mostly the result
of the wickedness of the freed people. I found on
reaching town hundreds of these people in camps around
the towns, and they had to draw supplies from the government.
If this state of affairs could have been
avoided, the moral standing of the colored women would
have been much higher; but being thrown among soldiers
who disregarded their chastity, we should not wonder
that thousands of girls whose virtue was as pure
as could be were ruined in these camps. But negro
women and girls were not the only victims of this evil
and wicked influence. Many of our best and purest
white women became the victims of them.

The negro part of society was so exultant over its
freedom that nothing appealed to its reason. The other
part was so cast down and dejected that nothing
could cheer nor stimulate it to thinking. The Yankees
and the freedmen had all the glory, and the Southern
masters and their families had all the woes. God's
justice was taking vengeance upon the hard and cruel
masters of the South.

While the war was raging, the blacks were giving
themselves over to balls and dances. I can remember
when we would walk ten miles, dance all night, and go
home after daylight next morning. The time of patrolling
negroes had passed. All men who were fitted for
such mean work found a better place for it on the field
of battle among their comrades who were bleeding and
dying while the negro was frolicking and flying.

It was the negroes' time to frolic, and they made
much of it. Indeed, they went too far. Samuel Jamison's
mill seemed to have been the selected place, and
here the gatherings were held by the hundreds. One
night it was said that the ball was going to be held at
Master Shack's. We went there, only to learn that it
was to be held at Master Sam's, three miles farther.
Turning north, we struck out, fully determined to
dance there that night. The larger boys outtraveled
the smaller ones; and just as they crossed the bridge
they met what they took for a little squad of soldiers,
but who really proved to be patrolers. It was a complete
trap. They soon surrounded the boys and had
them; but suddenly Adam made a dash, and was gone
over a fence into a field with the men flying after him,
but all to no effect. With Adam's dash several of the
others followed. So, after all, the main birds—big
birds—were out of danger. These patrolers, however,
had the small boys, whom they gave a light brushing.
Then, pushing south, they passed within twenty feet
of me and three others without knowing it. That was
the closest I ever got to any patrolers. While waiting in
our hiding place the other boys came along, feeling quite
sad that they had missed their dance and had caught a
thrashing. In fact, there was no ball that night. We
came out of our hiding place and joined them in their
homeward tramp, but did not talk much until the next
day. Adam turned up all right next morning. A nine-mile
walk and run was all he enjoyed that night.

Uncle Charles Hall was a kind of hoodoo. He could
prevent the white folks from mistreating you, hence
those of us who could believe in such would visit
him and have him “fix” us. He would make us “jacks”
and direct us where to get certain kinds of roots to
chew and to anoint with three times daily. This we
did, for Mr. Golden, the overseer, was pretty tight on
us. The most amusing sight was presented when the
overseer would ride among us. Every little fellow
would begin to chew his root and spit toward the overseer.
One day Noah spit too close to him, and he
took offense at it; and in spite of Noah's roots the
overseer “wore him out.” I laughed so that the overseer,
not knowing why I laughed, turned on me; but
I could not help it, for I would have laughed at any

not know or imagine how sad a place the hospital is unless
he himself has suffered in one of them. I suppose
there must have been more than two hundred patients
there, and they were of the very sickest nature too.
I was not a Christian, yet I felt as though I were willing
to die. I cannot say that I would have been saved,
because I knew not Christ as my only Saviour. I went
home in my visions, and every time I dropped into a
slumber I was happy and merry with brother. But
O there was a sight which greeted my eyes which was
most appalling! The dead were being carried out night and
day, many of whom were being poisoned to death
by wicked doctors and cruel nurses. These nurses
seemed to have been devoid of souls. They had lost all
sympathy for the suffering, and if the sick were restless
they would whip them with straps; and if that
failed to quiet them a kind of red medicine, which never
failed to kill within three hours, was given them.
How sad was the sight! There were two colored men
in my room as nurses. One of them said to me: “My
child, you must grin and endure it; but avoid making
a noise or they will kill you.” I heeded that advice as
best I could. Finally the doctor visited me and remarked
in my hearing: “He is a sick lad.” I told
him by my pitiable looks to help me or I would die.
He turned to the nurses and directed them to cup my
head. This was very painful at first, but finally gave
ease. I was lying quietly one day when one of the
colored nurses said that I was getting better and asked
me what I would give him to have me well enough to
go home at a certain time. “All I've got, sir,” was my
reply. And just as sure as that time came I was well
and ready to go out of the hospital. God bless that
man! And yet he was no voodoo.

Imagine the feelings of the men, who had heard that
I was dead, when I met them at supper one night. Indeed,
some of them could not help but shed tears of
joy. I was going home, and we slept but little that
night. All sent some word home by me. On Friday
evening I boarded the Reindeer and was off for Selma.
Reaching that city Sunday morning, I laid over until
Monday morning; then, taking the cars for Talladega,
I was soon flying homeward. I walked in on mother
without her being aware of my coming.

I have not space to give my readers an account of
the cruelty to the hands on the breastworks, but must
close this part of my narrative by saying that I
providentially received nothing but kindness during my stay
there save a scolding given me one day by Mr. Thomas
Green, the boss, for which I cried most heartily. Old
Mr. Green went from our neighborhood as boss in
charge of the hands from our section. He was a clever
gentleman, and a scolding from him went as hard with
me as a whipping. It was on account of the tenderness
of heart of his sub-boss that I was put to carrying
water, he having seen that I was not strong enough to
roll a wheelbarrow up the steep inclined plane. Not
knowing this, Mr. Green gave me the harsh scolding,
telling me that if I didn't get a wheelbarrow and get to
work he would give me a flogging. I got the barrow,
but could not wheel it. By this time General Armstrong,
the field marshal, with his aides, came riding
up to inspect things. The sub-boss hurried me off after
water, thus saving me from being killed, as General
Armstrong and his aides usually whipped to kill. They
were mad at negroes, anyway, about the war, and they
whipped cruelly. The General is now dead and gone
to his reward.

I learned to hate strong drinks in 1866, and have
never craved them from that day to this. The Hon.
John Dodwell was of wealthy parents, but this did not
create in his heart that high sense of manliness which
should be cherished in the breasts of all young men who
are descendants of good parents. One day he hired a
horse and buggy and carried me along as his driver.
A twenty-mile drive landed us at the Coosa River, in
St. Clair County, Ala. We carried two bottles of the
best whisky and a jug of the very best brandy. John
drank to great excess, and I tried to keep time with
him, drinking as often as he did. When I had taken
the fourth drink, he cautioned me not to get drunk. I
assured him that I could stand it as long as he could,
and we went on with the evil sport. As we reached
the twelfth mile board I was driving at a fearful rate.
The trees were flying in one direction and we in another.
We had quit the big road and taken one which forbade
fast going. Suddenly there was a great crash,
leaving nothing “uncrashed” but our faithful horse.
The buggy was smashed and its contents heaped in a
pile. One of the wheels went to pieces. “Frank, are
you drunk?” said John. “No, I ain't drunk,” I
replied. “Well, you've gotten us into a — of a fix out
here. What are you going to do?” he said. “I'm going
back to a neighbor's.” I soon returned, bringing
with me another wheel. We put it on and pushed
on to the river. On reaching the river I could not tell
which way it was flowing, I was so drunk. The
ferryman put us across, and John took the horse and buggy
and drove on to the house, leaving me to come on as
best I could. Each side of the road was mine, for I
could not go straight on; but I finally reached the
house and took possession of it until the hands came
in from the field. Every one at the house stood aside as
I ordered him. John's grown sisters and his mother
were there, and they all obeyed my orders. When the
hands came in I had about exhausted myself, and it was
an easy matter to put me to bed.

Next morning I felt all broken up. Mr. George
Dodwell wanted to thrash me that morning, but John
forbade him; so I went unwhipped for my sins. I resolved
from that day never to get drunk again; and
though twenty-two years have passed, I have thus far
kept my promise. I will say to all young men: Don't
be given to strong drinks, if you wish to be a great man.

CHAPTER IV.

Leaving Home and Going to the Yankees—My First Lover
—Religious Awakening among the People—Rage of
Smallpox—Death of Mother—Converted and Joined the
Church—Call to the Ministry.

I WAS absorbed and lost in the whirl of things on
reaching Talladega. The question that confronted me
was, Where was I to lodge, live, or get support? as the
Yankees had no work for me to do. My mother soon
came and hired to Dr. McCallipen as cook. This
brought my brother John to town also. Soon he and I
hired to the Dodwells. Now we were happy and doing
well, though our pay was small. Prior to mother's
moving to town I used to go back to see her. This was
offensive to old master, who threatened to thrash me
in case he caught me on the place. It was said that they
watched for me, but I don't believe they did. However,
I was armed, and woe to them had they bothered
me! One morning I was returning to town and met
Miss Amanda Adams. She spread the news that I went
armed, after which no one interfered with me.

I loved Amanda Lewis, who lived a mile from Mr.
Jamison's. We were but children. However, we loved
each other with all the fervor that is implied by that
term. About the first of January, 1865, her owner
sent her to Columbiana, forty-six miles away. We sat
up nearly all night, just as though we were grown persons;
and when the train came next morning I cried.
I promised her that I would visit her soon, but some of
her brothers told her to look for the general judgment
when she saw me in Columbiana. This created much
laughter. True to my word, as soon as the Yankees
declared us free and started trains to Selma I was
aboard one pleasant May morning and off to Columbiana,
where I arrived and went straight out to see
Miss Amanda. “O, is this you?” she exclaimed. “It
is,” was the reply. I was there, and yet no general
judgment has come. But, after all, some one else married
the girl I first loved.

It is with much pleasure that I reflect upon the years
of 1859, 1860, and 1862. Those days were noted for
the great religious awakening which seemed to be deeply
fixed within the souls of the people, white and colored.

Uncle Henry Seay was the most celebrated colored
Methodist preacher of his day. Red Bone, Owen
Springs, and other churches were made the scenes of
great rejoicing by his preaching. He used to preach on
the plantations to the masters and their slaves. I speak
the truth when I say that Uncle Henry Seay made all
of his hearers have a high hope of heaven. There was
power in his speaking. Many went into a trance while
listening to him.

Rev. Mr. Patterson was another powerful preacher.
Though a white minister, he generally stirred up the
people. I have seen Owen's Chapel all ablaze with religious
fervor, with more than a hundred souls crying for
mercy. I hear them shouting even now, with thirty
years intervening. Revs. Seay, Patterson, and Joe
Gross seemed to have been walking with Christ, and
nothing else was so dear and precious to their souls.

These have all fallen asleep—dropped their mantles
and gone up higher. The last time I saw Rev. Henry
Seay he was in Talladega during the time of Yankeedom.
In June, 1865, a large Yankee preacher preached
for the people at the white people's church. Uncle
Henry shared with him in the glories of that June
Sunday. It was hard to tell which one was the most
exultant. The Yankee minister had met a people toward
whom his soul had often turned, and seemed to
have lost sight of everything else. But there was Rev.
Seay, to whom the Yankee minister was everything but
Christ. That Yankee minister might have been taken
for a savior. He looked every inch a Christian.

I shall relate here another incident which occurred
near Talladega. Mother and Dr. Callipen's family had
the smallpox. At that time I was hired to a Mr. Boswell,
whose rules did not allow any passing to and
from town. I had not seen my mother in three weeks.
I wanted to go to see her regardless of the smallpox,
yet I disliked very much to break the rule. There were
some pretty girls at Boswell's, and I was attending a
night school there, which they all attended, with Miss
Dollie as teacher. It was this which caused me to respect
the rules so long. I knew that I should have gone
and attended to my mother; but if I did, I would have
to withdraw from this society of sweet girls, which I
was loath to do. But finally we boys went hunting one
night; and unfortunately for me, we went within four
miles of town, and I determined to visit mother. I did
so, and found her quite sick with that dreaded disease
smallpox. I did what I could for her and finally went
to sleep. When I awoke it was daylight, and I was five
miles from home (Boswell's). I went five miles in an
hour, but was ten minutes late. When I reached the
top of the hill overlooking the place, I heard them
calling and inquiring for me. Mr. Boswell asked me
where I had been. I told him: “Down the road apiece.”
“You have been to town,” he said. I refused to deny
the charge, and this seemed to pain him, for he hated
to drive me off. “I'll see ma,” he said, referring to
Mrs. Boswell; “and if she consents, you may stay
here.” But she said: “No; he will give us the smallpox.”
So I left and went to mother, and there I remained
until she recovered.

I then went to Jamison's mill and hired out. It was
there that the smallpox had been raging, and it was there
also that Uncle Dick and his two sons had died
of it. I had been there just one week when I too
took the smallpox, and they sent me back to town. I
was two days walking the nine miles. I got as far as
General McClellan's the first day, and went to the fodder
loft and put up for the night. Before day the next
morning some white men came to feed their horses.
They took fodder off of me and did not know that I
was there ill with smallpox. A few minutes afterwards
others came and did the same; and when they
had gone, I pulled out and crept off from that dangerous
hiding place and was off again for town. Reaching
town, I went to mother's. They fed me and sent
me to the hospital.

I tried to get religion out there, but the devil chased
me so that I gave it up. There were seventeen cases
in the hospital. All got well but Uncle Jack, who was
blind and without religion. When he learned that I
was seeking religion, he asked me to take him along
to the place of prayer. I did so, and on reaching the
place we sang and prayed. We sang only two songs,
“Amazing Grace” and “Hark! from the Tomb.” These
were all he knew.

Finally I was pronounced well and was made nurse
in the hospital, remaining one month. I continued
praying, and the devil chased me so at night that I
knew not what to do. When I went to have my voucher
cashed, the Yankee postmaster paid it, but said some
older person ought to have that easy job. I then quit, but
they could get no person in my place. Uncle Jack
died, and they had to hire me to help bury him. I do not
know whether or not he succeeded in finding peace for
his soul. I know that I didn't. In fact, I decided that
I could not.

I shall always remember Aunt Rose Bowie. Had I
been deprived of her most tender care, I would have
died also. I know not where she is now. Mother died
the same year (1866).

Talladega was too poor, and too many people were
there, hence I went south in search of better wages.
I passed through Selma and lodged at Newbern, where
the renters of a Mr. Rommore's farm hired me. This
was where they raised cotton on a large scale, hence
it was common to see from one hundred and fifty to
two hundred hands on one farm.

I witnessed a powerful awakening, religiously speaking.
It capped the climax of all I had ever seen. But
there was a great deal of dancing going on over at Mr.
Scott's; and instead of my enlisting with the Christians,
under the leadership of Uncle Chris and O. C.
Ola, I followed Eli, the leader of the dances.

Our wages were from twelve to fifteen dollars per
month. They were good wages for Alabama. We ought
to have saved money, but instead used it in dressing and
frolicking. The girls dressed as “fine as fiddles,” and
we tried to follow the fashions.

Those religious people started me to thinking about
my soul as I had never thought before. Indeed, I was
made sensible of the condition of my poor soul. Then,
too, religion appeared so precious to those people that
it truly enticed me. One could hardly resist the temptation
to go and be saved. I tried hard to resist, but found
it useless. I was standing one night listening to the
minister when all at once I was on my knees pleading
for mercy. Though when the meeting was dismissed
I was still unsaved, I determined to be saved and set
out fully resolved to be within the next two weeks.
But at the expiration of the two weeks I felt that I
was no nearer salvation than at first. Yet I was really
much nearer. At any rate, I resolved to continue seeking
salvation, believing the fault to be with me.

At the close of the third week, on Saturday, I retired
to the woods, preferring to spend the day there rather
than go to the political speaking which was to be held
that day. About noon I realized the forgiveness of my
sins. I was happy in the salvation of which I had long
heard. I returned to the house to tell the leader the
joyful news. This the adversary of my soul tried to
prevent. He cowed me for a while, but it had to be
told. I told it and felt better, but he caused me to
doubt; hence I sought for a clearer evidence of salvation.
I found it, enjoyed it, and joined the Church under
Rev. Mr. McCann, the white minister of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, South, in Newbern, Ala., October,
1867. I shall not forget the time and place
when my deliverance came. The power of God spread
miles and miles around.

The preachers in those days were a power among the
people—Revs. Henry Stephens, O. C. Ola, Chris Noe,
Frank and Nathan Drake, all of whom were Methodists
except Stephens. Drake and Stephens were the
most powerful preachers I ever heard. Thousands of
people flocked to Newbern, Greensboro, and Uniontown
to hear them.

Lack of space forbids my giving a full account of
the girls and boys whose association I enjoyed in these
meetings.

In 1868 I lived with Thomas Mogan within five miles
of Uniontown. The army worms ate up the crops that
year, hence the hands got nothing. That was the most
painful and most unfortunate year of my Christian life.
I began to backslide by dancing upon two occasions, and
did many things unlawful for a Christian to do. I
was a long time forgiving myself for those acts. But,
thank God, in the fall of 1868 I was thrown into a
happy revival over at Mr. Henry Stollingworth's,
conducted by Rev. Henry Hutchinson, an evangelist. That
old gray-headed Christian brought eighty-five souls to
Christ within six weeks. Sinners were converted night
and day, in the fields as well as at services. He rarely
closed a service without souls being converted. Alex
Picken, Lee Andrews, Manuel, Naze Reese, Catherine
Washington, Elizabeth Bryant, and scores of others
were saved. I was reclaimed during the meeting, praise
the Lord! I must ever thank him for it. I had been
in a dark desert place, but now I had once more reached
the lighted land of corn and wine.

I was moved to preach by some unknown power in the
year 1869; but knowing nothing to preach, I resisted
it until 1870. I could no longer resist, hence Jasper
Ward and I applied to Rev. Hillard for license to exhort,
which was granted after a close examination. We
ran well for a season, going from place to place exhorting
and preaching. I say preaching because Brother
Ward could preach, but somehow or other he always
made me lead the sermon. I was the best reader and,
unfortunately for him, I was soon considered the best
preacher. This was very chafing to Brother Ward, who
loved the praise of men. Still he was ever ready to
preach with me; in fact, he enjoyed it. The sisters
shouted when Brother Ward preached; they listened
when I preached. Brother Ward swept things like an
ocean's wave; I floated things like a slow-flowing river,

The new church having been completed, Brother
Ward and I were thrown upon our studies in the
presence of a large congregation. I led the way, as usual,
after consulting him as to the text; and being allowed
to take my choice, I selected the seventh verse of the
thirteenth chapter of Zechariah: “Awake, O sword,
against my shepherd, and against the man that is my
fellow, saith the Lord of hosts: smite the shepherd, and
the sheep shall be scattered; and I will turn mine hand
upon the little ones.” I tried myself on that day,
explaining as best I could the meaning of the sword,
the shepherd, the smiting, and the little ones, winding
up with the little ones. When I sat down, one could not
hear himself for the noise of shouting and crying. They
said they did not believe that it was in me to move the
people as I did on that Sabbath. Now, I could do nothing
of myself in the matter of preaching; but bright
and early that morning I was with Jesus, who gave me
much power and thought and a tongue to deliver the
power and thought to others. Poor Brother Ward was
outgeneraled on that day. When he attempted to close
after me, he was drowned out by the uproar of the people.
The whole truth is, Brother Ward failed to prepare
himself. He always relied upon his noise to carry
him through. I had selected a text with which he
seemed entirely unacquainted, and this exposed him to
the public.

After that I had to go along without Brother Ward.
It is painful to say that he afterwards sought to lower
me in the estimation of the people, and he succeeded in
so doing to some extent. I remember that when the
pastor at Uniontown, a Rev. Mason, died, the officials
selected me to fill his pulpit the following Sabbath.
This annoyed me. I felt my inability to preach in
town. I thought the people were too wise. But I had
to go. Brother Williams drove me to Uniontown in
his buggy that morning, a distance of about five miles.
A large congregation was out to hear the young minister.
I confess that it was a real cross, which I felt
very unwilling to bear. The greater portion of those
present were young critics who were attending school.
I announced as my text “Jesus wept” (John xi. 35).
I had occasion to repeat the text very often; and as
I would say, “Jesus wept,” some of these critics would
repeat it after me, which made the others giggle heartily.
They said that I had tried to be overproper. The
Christians prayed for me; and as soon as I realized it
I was enabled to dismiss my fears and timidity. I had
about finished two-thirds of my discourse when I
discovered that the Spirit was moving among the people.
Many shouted, many cried, and the game makers were
loudest in the crying. O, I was so thankful and happy!
That day's work was long remembered, and gave me a
mighty reputation as a preacher. Our home folks were
not ashamed of “Jimmy,” as they called me, anywhere.

But, after all, one Sunday at Mr. Stollingworth's
they were really sorry for me. Brother Henson had
lingered a long time with a disease which set at naught
the skill of our best physicians. They all had about
given him up to die when a hoodoo doctor, Noe Franks,
a so-called preacher, was sent for, who visited Brother
Henson several times, saying he was “tricked” and that
he could cure him; but he never cured him, of course.
Shortly afterwards they sent for another doctor of the
same class. He came one Sunday morning and
announced that he could do great wonders. He told the
boys that he could tell who spoke well of him; that he
could get in a wagon, sit down, and they could not move
it even though they might hitch six mules to it. When
I heard this, I told the boys that he was a fraud of the
first rank, and that if they would hitch six mules to a
wagon I would make them run away and break his
neck. They cautioned me, saying that the old man
might “fix me,” though I was careless about it. When
he called on Brother Henson, he too said that Henson
was conjured or tricked and wanted the largest green
pumpkin brought to him, with which he would cure
Brother Henson. “You shall have it,” said Naze Reese.
“Yes, and fifty dollars in the bargain if you can cure
Henson,” said I. “O, I'll cure him,” he said. But
there was no cure for Brother Henson, and he died. It
was a remarkable death indeed. He saw a clear sky
before him, being sensible to the last.

It was a custom among colored people to have funerals
preached five or six months after the deceased persons
were buried, so at the appointed time Rev. Nathan
Drake and I were selected to preach the funeral of
Brother Henson. Fully five hundred people gathered
to hear us; but Rev. Drake did such tall and powerful
preaching that there was nothing I could say that could
be heard, owing to the shouting of Christians and the
wailing of relatives. I would have fared far better had
I kept silent, but as it ended my failure was the talk
of the community for months. All were ashamed of
having pitted me against one of the best preachers of
that portion of the State of Alabama.

There is a possibility of blighting the hope of a
promising young man just at the time when a little
chiding about his weaknesses would be the means of
making him a power for Christ. I have always found
it wisest to bring up young men for the ministry by
a slow process. Do not crowd them into big appointments
or high positions too fast, but give them time.
Make them feel that there are always lots of things
which they do not know and which they should and
must know ere they are fitted for certain positions.
I have attended Conferences and have seen with sadness
young men who seemed altogether unprepared to teach
the people the doctrines of Christ and his Church
rushed into high positions and large appointments. This
is a serious mistake, and is injurious to the Church and
people. The people must be taught of God, Christ,
and the Church. They must be taught to know the
relations they sustain to him through his Son, our Lord
Jesus Christ, all of which requires study—hard study.
I must say that the qualifications required of young
men coming into the ministry are too poor; and, what is
worse, they are not compelled to obtain these qualifications
before they are ordained and rushed into full
connection. As a result they cannot teach and the people
are not edified. Those of them who are capable of
judging will tell you that they rarely hear anything but
loud noise.

CHAPTER V.

Visit to Rome, Ga., in 1871—Money Exhausted while in
Rome—On Gravel Train under Hard Boss—Roustabout
on a Steamboat—Last Bloody Fight—Narrow Escape
from Death as Brakeman on a Freight Train—The Ku
Klux Klan.

MY brother John and I decided to visit our kindred
living in Rome, Ga., as we were now almost grown
young men, and had not seen them since we were four
and six years old, respectively. We started from
Uniontown, Ala., which made it a journey of nearly two
hundred miles. On reaching Rome we first went to the
home of Uncle Benjamin, my mother's oldest brother,
where we were most royally entertained. He was much
like mother in disposition. We visited as many of our
people as we could find, and were nicely treated by
them all. For some cause we did not care to remain
in Rome, though it was in some respects a better town,
we thought, than Talladega. Selma, Marion, and
Uniontown excelled either of them for good wages. When
we left Selma and Uniontown for Rome, we were pretty
well supplied with money, but on reaching Rome it was
soon exhausted. We then began to think we would have
to get back by way of “counting ties,” but were fortunate
enough to get jobs as brakemen on the Selma, Rome,
and Dalton Railroad, by which means we returned to
Selma. We never visited Rome again. When it became
difficult to get work in the city, we would go to
the railroad, gravel train, wood yard, or to steamboats,
and thereby manage to keep at something to make a
living, as we had fully decided to quit farming.

The hardest taskmasters with whom we came in contact
were on the Selma and Montgomery Railroad gravel
train. There were two brothers who worked about twenty-five
hands, with whom they were very strict. If one
of the hands decided to quit, he would have to do so
without letting them know of it, else they would club
him shamefully. This they would do alike to both
white and colored. Brother John and I thought this
too bitter a pill to swallow, and assured the men that
we would never slip off when we decided to quit the job,
but would go right up to the boss and ask him for our
time. The white hands begged us not to do this, as we
would be maltreated as others had been. I laughed at
them and told them never to believe that those men
would hurt us. We felt able to take care of ourselves
in any sort of encounter with them, and would do so at
any cost. Things went on lovely. The boss did not
care how much one talked so long as he kept constantly
at work. That just suited the Jamisons. We would
throw sand and gravel at a lively rate, but kept talking
about things which would really interest the boss. On
Wednesday he carried us out to Benton, thirteen miles
from Selma, expecting to return to the city on Saturday
for the purpose of spending the Sabbath royally.
The hands were in the habit of calling the boss “captain”
—so much so, in fact, that he told them there were
too many captains, and that they might call him by
some other name. I asked him if he intended to return
to Selma that evening, and called him “colonel,”
at which he took great offense. “You told us to call
you”—said I. “You are a—liar!” said he. “And
if you repeat it, I'll rub your head with a brick.” “I
can prove it by all the hands,” I said. I watched him
to see if he would go for a brick; but he did not, though
he turned very red. He said that I was a “—good
hand,” but was too impertinent, and that I could do one
of two things, not be impertinent and remain or be
impertinent and leave. I went down to the dinner
table and consulted the boys, who urged me to slip off
at night and avoid further trouble. But I was
determined to test his bravery. I stepped up to him and
said that, inasmuch as we could not get along together,
I guessed I would quit. He looked off and did not say
a word. Thus the hands had lived to see a young man
go and tell their boss of his intention to leave without
being kicked. Really he acted like a different man
from that he was reputed to be. If that boss had made
a dash at me, he would have suffered severely, for I was
prepared for mischief.

Leaving the gravel train, we returned to Selma. I
got a job as roustabout on board the Mist, a steamer on
the Alabama River, running from Mobile to Wetumpka.
I was a young convert; and seeing that the steamboat
business was not the thing for young converts, I
therefore selected “Savannah Joe” as my partner and went
aboard at nine dollars per round trip, a week being
required to make a trip. I made three trips, which were
indeed most perilous. I fought on every trip except
the first. It was a bad place for a young convert to be.
My last fight was with John Peoples, of Mobile. John
was a terror to nearly all of the roustabouts. He was
a scientific boxer, and was the cause of the fight. He
and I belonged to the same watch, which had just ended,
and we had retired for four hours' rest. Just as we
fell asleep the watchman shouted: “Land the boat!
Go forward!” “That's too bad. Where are we?” I
inquired. “Selma,” was the reply. That settled it, as
that meant three hours of hard work unloading the
boat. When all was done, the vessel moved upstream.
This being our hour to watch caused us to work eight
hours without rest. This made John so mad that he
was like a snake in dog days, striking at everything
which chanced to pass him. I passed him, and he
struck me in the face. I could not return the blow, as
I had a load on my shoulders. However, I made haste
to unload myself and hurried back to return the blow.
He squared himself and defied me, but before he knew it
I was giving him some timely blows. He at once returned
the blows, and was soon getting the best of me.
Blood was flowing profusely. I clinched him, seizing
his throat. I choked him almost breathless ere he
could extricate himself. Finally they loosed me from
him, and he darted out of the engine room and, seizing
an ax, was about to lay me out; but fortunately for me,
the two steel doors caught him. By this time the mate
had come and wanted to know the trouble. They told
him that John had imposed on me and that I ought to
kill him. I stood within the engine room, bleeding and
crying. Finally my temper got the best of me. I
rushed by them, gathered the ax, and went off to kill
John. Just as I passed a crowd some one caught the
ax as I drew back to strike John. This caused me to
fall, and before I could rise John caught me while flat
on my back. Then the mate said: “Let him give Frank
—.” This John resolved to do. He beat me up and
down and tried to throw me overboard with the boat
running at full speed. But turning from off my back,
I grabbed a hatchet and let it fly. John fell, screaming
in a loud voice. Those who stood around us made
haste to take John Peoples out of further danger.
Before I was a convert fighting was my profession. “Ha!
ha! John met his match last night,” said one of the
bystanders. “Yes, and he would have made a finish of
him if let alone,” said another. We both were bleeding
shamefully. I was sorry for John the moment I saw
him refuse to eat his breakfast that morning.

That bloody fight occurred about sunrise one Sunday
morning in March, 1871. Savannah Joe, my partner,
was in the hatch hole, and knew nothing of it until
it was all over. “I'll put John ashore,” said the
mate. “Put me too,” said I. “No, I won't,” he said.
“Yes, but I'll quit,” I answered. Reaching Benton, he
put John off five hundred and ninety miles from
Mobile. I got off too. Savannah Joe did the same thing
and resolved to whip John because he had imposed upon
me in his absence. I told Joe that if he touched John
he would have to whip me too; that no man could
impose upon another in my presence. We walked back to
Selma, thirteen miles, without a ripple. Next morning
I met my brother John, who laughed at my black
eyes and bruised nose. As we were going uptown we
met John Peoples, who, though looking worse than I,
took us and treated to cold drinks.

Times having become dull in Selma, we hired to a
man to cut cordwood. Here brother John experienced
one of the most painful nights of his life. His pain
seemed greater than he could bear, and I thought he
would die before morning in spite of all that I could do
for him. His trouble was cramp colic. Next morning
we both rejoiced that he yet lived, though feeble indeed.

Leaving there, I secured work as a brakeman on the
Selma and Meridian Railroad. Brother went with surveying
parties on the Mobile, Alabama, and Grand Trunk
Railroad. I knew nothing whatever about braking on a
train. The conductors would not have hired me but for
the fact that the Ku-Klux Klan was so bad that the old
brakemen found it best to quit. The brakemen were
now all green hands. One rainy morning the engineer
wanted water. The tank was at the east end of a heavy
grade. He gave a signal for brakes. I guess I turned
on at least half a dozen, but the train kept going and
he kept whistling. The other brakemen were afraid of
their feet slipping, hence they sat down and threw on
the brakes as best they could; but the train passed on by
the tank. Being mad, I then went to another brake
and snatched it as though I was an old hand at the
business and made a strong pull, when suddenly my
feet slipped and I dropped between the running cars.
The mist obstructing my sight, I therefore fell my full
length and with all of my weight; but I held on to the
brake with a deadly grasp, and this saved my life. After
this incident I, of course, quit the braking business.
I was a young convert, but did not care to run such a
risk. Then, again, expecting at any moment to be
pulled off by the Ku-Klux, I therefore decided that this
was not a safe job for me.

To my surprise, I never saw a Ku-Klux in all of my
life, though thousands of them were said to have been
in Alabama. Up on the North and South Railroad the
Ku-Klux would swarm out at night, and not only
whip but actually kill some of the colored hands. One
night a great stream of them poured out; and it is
said that there would have been more of them, but
something destructive happened and a part of them
mysteriously disappeared, which checked the ravages of
the Ku-Klux Klan.

CHAPTER VI.

Attended an A. M. E. Annual Conference—Negro Politics
and Religion in the Church—Days of Courtship—Talk
on the Marriage Relation among Negroes—Defeated in
Love—Down in Mobile Grading on the Grand Trunk Line
—Met Old Lover while Spending the Summer in Uniontown—
Voted for General Grant and Supported the Republican
State Ticket in 1872.

PROVIDENTIALLY, brother and I were once more
thrown together in Selma, where I attended the
Annual Conference of the African Methodist Episcopal
Church and met Bishops Ward and Brown, Elder
Young, Elder (now Bishop) Turner, and others, among
whom was the Hon. Benjamin Turner, then the negro
Congressman. These negroes certainly had a royal time
of it. It was a sort of royalty that turned the white
people into Ku-Klux Klans, “White Riders,” etc. They
could not stand to see such demonstrations on the part
of their former slaves at their very doors, hence they
sought to put an end to it by foul means.

General Grant was President at this time, but could
do little to protect the negroes in those days of trial.
There was scarcely safety for any one. Finally the
leading negroes went out of politics into religion; and
some of them became elders, some bishops, and some
nothing. Half of them had but little or no religion.
Of course it is understood that some of them have none
yet, as they carried their old political tricks into the
Church and largely destroyed its sacredness. While this
was being done the white man rushed in and took control
of politics and left the negro on the outside with
his religion, wrangling about what Paul said. The
white man having accomplished his purpose, the Klan,
“White Riders,” etc. ceased for a season. I shall say
more upon this subject later on.

While the idle days were upon us we amused ourselves
as doth the cooing doves of the spring. We courted the
girls, at least I did (brother was a little slow along
this line). I highly admired Miss Sarah German, Miss
Elizabeth Bryant, and Miss Esther Pickens. With
these I spent some of the most pleasant days of 1871. I
started to enter a marriage contract with the German
girl, but several claimed that I had made similar
contracts with them. I might have made some agreements
of a compromising nature; but as that was not a rare
thing in those days, I thought that should have made
but little difference. I also thought that a young man
ought to court his girl a long while before marrying
her; and as marriage should be a lifetime agreement, I
thought it not out of place to talk with more than one
on the same subject for the purpose of studying the
different traits of character.

I think one should be quite familiar with the
disposition of the one whom he selects to make his bride; and
if she is found not suitable, do not marry her. I shall
pause a while just here and drop a few words of advice
to young people respecting courtship and marriage.
Don't be too hasty about marrying; for every
good-looking girl is not fitted to be a wife, nor will
every handsome young man make a good husband. Seek
the association of the wisest and best, for upon this
depends a good moral turn of mind as well as a healthy
body. Therefore, young man, be afraid to associate
with any but the purest girls; and, young ladies, avoid
the young man who is not a gentleman. Think yourself
above the baser sort. I find from consulting learned
men that a man's health in old age depends largely upon
the associations he formed in his youthful days. This
being true, it is of the greatest importance that our
youths be brought to think and act upon this principle,
with an eye single to their future days. Since health
in middle and old age depends upon the conduct in
youth, it is absolutely necessary to keep the youths pure.
Pure thoughts in the heart will make the whole body
pure, healthy, and vigorous. If you will take these
rules as the guide of your youth, my son or daughter,
your home will ever be bright and happy until the latest
sun of your declining days has set. Suffice it to say,
young people, let your lives be as chaste as the ice and
as pure as the snow.

The foregoing remarks may be deemed out of place;
but seeing the thousands who have fallen and the
thousands who are falling daily for want of information upon
this all-important relation upon which so much depends,
I cannot resist the temptation to drop these words of
caution. A race of people—yea, a nation—is measured
by the respect shown for the marriage relation. One
of the greatest impediments to the colored race is its
little regard for the marriage relation. There are
thousands of men among us with half a dozen wives; and
some of them are in the best society, being measured by
popularity and not by principle. I sometimes think that
the whites are half right in refusing to associate with

BUGLE CLUB OF TEXAS COLLEGE, 1900.

the negroes. They would be entirely right but for the
fact that they are largely responsible for the condition
of the American Negro. They degraded him in every
conceivable way. They call into position the worst
element among us. This is of itself poor encouragement
to the ones who are striving to better their conditions.
This I regard as a shame on the Anglo-Saxon race, but
it is nevertheless true. In many towns and cities, as
well as in the country, they will select the poorest teachers
over first-class teachers for the schools of colored
children, thus showing their opposition to the education
of negroes.

Philmore Hawkins, a large, awkward young man, was
my companion who always accompanied me on my
visits to Miss Sarah German. While she and I would
spend our pleasant hours in talking, Philmore would
spend his hours in nodding and sleeping in his chair.
Sometimes he would amuse us no little by falling almost
out of his chair. After courting nearly six months, we
succeeded in betrothing and arranged the date of marriage.
I felt truly delighted at my success. Philmore
knew of the engagement. Neither of us suspected that
he thought of anything respecting his chances with her.
Miss Elizabeth Bryant, who lived between my home and
Miss German's, was very much averse to our marriage;
and as I had to pass her house in going to see Miss German,
she would come out and hail me. I had to stop, as
a matter of course, and she would tease me no little. I
denied the rumor of our marriage, but she believed it in
spite of my denial. Finally I was accused of being too
attentive to a Miss—. This rumor reached the ears
of Miss German, and that broke our marriage contract.
Nothing I could say would avail. When I saw that
she had resolved not to marry me, I resolved to be brave
and show indifference; but it was a hard task. I knew
that she loved me; so I hoped to change her mind by
appearing in society with another girl, Miss Elizabeth
Bryant, queen of the neighborhood. But this did not
succeed. I then thought seriously for a while of marrying
Miss Bryant. In the meantime Mr. Philmore and
Miss German were married! That removed all the
marriage ideas completely from my mind. The girl I loved
had married the homeliest and ugliest man in Perry
County, and all the boys were laughing at my expense
and failure.

I went south to Mobile, where I got a job grading on
the Mobile, Alabama, and Grand Trunk Railroad. I was
getting eighteen cents per yard, which enabled me to hire
fifteen hands. I made money very fast. Seventy-five or
eighty dollars per month was my income. When my
first contract expired, I had about five hundred dollars.
I paid off my hands, got brother, and returned to Uniontown
to spend the summer. I made it convenient to visit
Miss German, who seemed to love me now more than
ever. She expressed a willingness to atone for all
mistakes of the past, but it was too late. She had
disappointed me; and if she had made a mistake, I could in
no way help it at this time. I could, of course, do
nothing to relieve the situation.

Returning to Selma on the day of election (1872),
we voted for General Grant and the Republican State
ticket. Grant was elected, but the Democrats counted
our State ticket out.

CHAPTER VII.

Moved to Texas in 1872—Landed in Texas at Greenwood,
but Settled Down at Marshall—Disappointed with Texas
and Started Back to Alabama—Broke Brother's Leg while
Splitting Rails to Get Back to Alabama—Exhorting and
Preaching.

IN 1872 it was said that wages in Texas were very
good—two dollars and a half in greenback and two
dollars in gold per day. About five hundred Georgians
and Alabamians resolved to go to Texas. We decided
to go and stay three years, get rich, and return to
Alabama. But it proved to be a long three years. It has
been thirty-eight years instead of three since we left
Alabama.

We left Selma November 4, 1872, running twenty-five
miles to meet the east-bound train. We parleyed
a while with the train people, walking around and viewing
things (fool-like, always looking up), when, to my
surprise, we observed that the train had started and was
rapidly getting farther away from us Texas-bound people.
I ran until I almost lost my breath before I overtook
that train, but caught it and afterwards knew how
to keep my seat. “Never make yourself appear a
‘greenhorn’ is a good rule to follow through life,” I thought,
“especially when traveling.”

We reached Vicksburg, Miss., on November 5, where
I saw for the first time the Father of Waters, the
Mississippi River, over which we crossed into Louisiana. I
was prejudiced against Vicksburg, hence I saw nothing
of a very enticing nature. Delhi, just across the
river, was a miserable-looking town, where we took a
filthy-looking train for Monroe, La., which is a
beautiful place. Spending part of one day in Monroe, I went
to a circus. Here I saw many good-looking women, but
learned that their condition was but little better than
the state of slavery out of which they had recently come.

There were one hundred of us en route to Texas—
seventy-five whites and twenty-five colored. It was one
hundred and ten miles from Monroe to Shreveport. An
overland trip of this distance had to be made, as there
was no railroad. There were only thirteen wagons,
which had to be used for hauling tools, etc. The drivers,
of course, had to be white men; but somehow I found
favor with the boss, who gave me a team to drive. I
was very thankful, because it saved me from a long,
tiresome walk. We crossed the Washita River at
Trenton, just opposite Monroe, La. It was here that the
boys broke camp and started on one of the longest and
most toilsome journeys on foot that they had ever
experienced. Many gave out by the wayside and were
half a day late reaching Shreveport, though they came
through without being disturbed by the Ku-Klux Klan.

The Georgians carried several women with them.
Many of them had their little children with them, and,
becoming exhausted, had to be picked up by the wayside.
The wagon train passed one of them near Arcade,
and she begged each driver that passed to let her ride.
They all refused. She then asked me, and I told her
she could ride upon my wagon if I had to walk and
drive. I was still a young convert, and my heart easily
yielded in sympathy for the distressed woman.

Arcade was a little country village, but a general reign
of peace seemed to be the state of affairs there, except
for an old colored woman who got on the war path one
morning because some of the boys, among whom was
John Jamison, made themselves too free with her girls.
They were beautiful girls, and seemed to enjoy the company
of the newcomers very much. They were having
a jolly time when the old lady came in and shouted:
“Look here, by —! Back your wagon! What yer
mean? Yer know I ain't gwine ter stand dis, by —!
Back yer wagon right erway!” The boys backed their
wagon, too, and that in a hurry.

We had great sympathy for the poor colored people
through whose territory we passed. They appeared as
if forsaken by the outer world of mankind because of
their humble condition, yet they were nice, respectable
people.

The city of Shreveport was the liveliest one we had
touched since leaving Selma. Here the negroes looked
and acted as though they were free from their masters.
Money seemed plentiful everywhere. Cotton, cotton,
cotton was the order of the day.

Leaving Shreveport, we pushed on, and after about
twenty more miles had been traveled we crossed the
Texas line. The train soon had us in Greenwood.
“Now you are in Texas,” said some one. “Is this Texas?
Great Scott! No, it cannot be!” “Yes, indeed,”
said another. “Well, if it is, it is mighty poor.”

We reached Marshall, and were told that this was the
end of our journey. We viewed the city with much
curiosity, but it proved to be as old as the hills and valleys
of Alabama. There was no work but that of railroading.
It was at Marshall that Bishop W. H. Miles held the
second session of the East Texas Conference; and it
was here also that the Bishop and his Conference were
driven out of the Methodist Episcopal church by some
poor, ignorant women who had been told that the Bishop
was a Democrat and was seeking to organize a Democratic
Church. This was a shame; but the good Bishop led
his brethren quietly out of that church, leaving it to
those crazy women. The devil was satisfied with his
success. Bishop Miles was not without a place to hold
his Conference; for the white people threw open their
church doors to him, and the business of the Conference
went on.

If there ever was a colored community in need of education,
it was that at Marshall; and God in mercy has
given to them two of the best schools in the State of
Texas, though it seems that they do not profit much by
it since they do not send their children to these schools
as they should.

Out at our camps, which lay about two miles northeast
of town, we found nothing as had been reported.
We had been promised a contract, a subcontract, and
a twenty-two-cents-per-yard job if we preferred to work
alone, or from two dollars to two dollars and a half per
day as day laborers; but the promise was about all there
was to it. They were two and three months behind with
the old hands. Every week they promised a pay day, but
its delay disheartened us. We did not care to get any
more promises, neither did we care to work and take
a promise for pay. A heavy snow began to fall, and we
could do no work. Finally we decided to go back to
Alabama. We did not have the money with which to
return, so we undertook to work our way back, and
decided that wherever we struck a job we would take it,
finish it, draw our money, and resume our journey. The
first sixteen miles brought us to Jonesville, where we
got a forty-dollar job splitting rails. There were John
Jamison, King Smith, Washington Branley, Andrew
Jackson, and myself. We began the work of splitting
the rails, and would have resumed our journey, but I
accidentally broke my brother's leg one evening, which
caused us to remain in and around Jonesville at least
three months. John suffered very much. When Drs.
Vaughn and Knox, who attended him during his suffering,
assured him that he would soon be all right, we
looked for other jobs, which it was no trouble to find.

A Mr. Kahn gave us forty acres of land to clear,
allowing us five dollars per acre. This land was about
three miles from the town of Jonesville. John was left
under the care of the doctors and A. Jackson while we
went to work in earnest, believing that we now had
work which, when finished, would enable us to make
our return to old Alabama. In February the weather
was very cold; but as we were used to that, we lost no
time. Finally March brought in wind and sunshine,
and the Texas birds were singing and chanting to us
their Texas melodies. Instead of further rail-splitting,
we laid the country off into circuits, to be known as the
Black Jack Circuit, Hilliard Circuit, Center Circuit,
and Antioch Circuit. King Smith rode the Hilliard
Circuit, and I had charge of Center Circuit. That was
grand. We had resolved to supply the people with the
gospel. We were exhorters, and while exhorting we
sometimes preached. I visited the appointments of all
the circuits.

April was accompanied with many sweet birds and
beautiful flowers, whose songs and fragrances were very
delightful to us. There were thousands of colored
people in that section with whom religion was all the go.
This, indeed, suited me, the young convert. I tried
myself by exhorting three or four times a week, going
from plantation to plantation. The Church properly did not
take to us hastily, but, nevertheless, our names were
spreading favorably all over the country. That was
exactly proper, for we were strangers; hence it was not
wise for the Churches to grasp us too suddenly. The
neighborhood seemed to enjoy the Alabama style of
exhorting, so they gathered in large numbers at any given
point to hear us.

Washington Branley was a great singer, and used to
sing his spiritual songs with great glee of spirit. While
he sang the people all shouted. Finally, when all had
about finished their shouting, Washington himself would
begin, and would shout so that it would take two men
to hold him. The other Alabamians did not like that
in Wash, and believed that he was pretending to be happy
above what he really was. We were going to hold a
meeting at Uncle Lewis Dunn's, on the Hilliard Circuit,
and decided to test Wash's sincerity if he should shout
on that night. He shouted as usual. When two of the
boys got hold of him and punched him with their fists,
he quit shouting and turned blue.

With the month of May came the most lively times
of all. Church, church, church; work all the week; go
to night meetings; but on Sundays the people swarmed
out to church by the thousands. I began to realize that
Alabama was not the only place where the Lord made
known his power to the believers. Antioch, the Baptist
Church, was the leading Church in the community.
Rev. Wesley Pearson, King Herald, Sam High, and
James H. Patterson were all Baptist preachers and
preached at Antioch. One Sabbath they had an all-day
meeting with dinner on the ground. Rev. Edmond
Harris was to preach in the afternoon, and I was to
exhort behind him. This was the beginning of my career
in Harrison County. The short exhortation which I
made went far and near, so much so that I was afterwards
invited far out into the surrounding country to
exhort. Being a Methodist and a young convert, everything
seemed to work in my favor; so I made the echo
fill the woods around. King Smith did what he could,
which was but little, exhorting here and there.

Brother was about well now; and though he was not
a preacher, he fared as well as we. In June everything
was still more favorable, and I was by this time
getting acquainted with Texas. Our forty-acre contract having
been finished, we drew the money, went to Shreveport,
and purchased fine suits of clothes for the purpose of
making visits. We bought flour and ladies' hats, and
sold them to some of the farmers, some of whom never
did pay us. Mr. A. B. Blocker, who lived about one-half
mile from Mr. Kahn, wanted hands to hoe cotton
at one dollar and fifty cents per day. Mr. Kahn protested
against our leaving his place to help any one,
saying that he would give us as much as any other man;
but Mr. Blocker had been to us the best man in
Harrison County, had fed us on the best (and it went freely),
hence we decided to work for him.

I used to think that Uncle Lewis Davis was the best
singer I had ever heard. He always sang with the Spirit
and with a good voice, never too high nor too low, and
the tune was admirably selected. Whenever I preached,
I usually preferred to have him sing, because his singing
would surely bring the Holy Spirit upon the people.
The Baptists of Antioch made the woods ring with
music when led by Brother Lewis. It was a hard matter
for the Methodists to excel them. The Methodists
had the best doctrine, but the Baptists had the best
singers; and I may be pardoned for saying that they
had the best preachers. Elder Mimms was the presiding
elder, and everybody loved him for his piety and
veneration. He preached well, but did not “stir 'em up.”

July brought on the big protracted meetings. Rev.
Charles Ingraham was the circuit rider on the Longridge
Circuit, including Center Academy, the Methodist
stamping ground. Brother Ingraham gathered large
crowds and preached the unadulterated gospel to them.
Every nerve in his body was employed to help him
preach Christ. Many were converted, but several of
them would join the Baptist Church. This was due to
the fact that the people were behind the times and
because Brother Ingraham was too full of the Holy Ghost
to preach the doctrines of the Methodist Church. This
he always preferred leaving for others to do. In fact,
I never heard him argue about the doctrines of this
or that Church; his highest aim was to bring sinners
to Christ. That was why I admired him so highly. I
wished many times that I was possessed with his spirit
in that respect. But I was a rank partisan. I believed
in the Methodists from “away back,” and was as
ready to defend their doctrines as a game chicken is to
fight. I still believe that it is the best Church in the
world, though her polity is not what it used to be.
There are now too many Methodist denominations pulling
“Dick, Tom and Harry.”

In the month of August religious revivals became
general in all the country churches. About this time
Andrew Jackson was to be married, and I was called
upon to solemnize the rite of matrimony, although I
was not an ordained preacher—a thing I should not have
done, because it was unlawful. Having married them
at Jonesville, I rode nine miles to hear Rev. Charles
Ingraham preach the eleven o'clock sermon. In the
afternoon I preached, doing the best I could. It was a
great time with the Methodists. They began to feel that
the day-star of hope was about to shine upon them in
its full luster.

Brother Ingraham was greatly attached to me, as I
seemed to please him very much. When he went home,
he said that he told his wife and all whom he met that
he had met an Alabama preacher that could preach
better than himself. No one who had not heard the
Alabamian believed him, he said, as it was given up
that Rev. Ingraham was the best Methodist preacher in
that section of the country. Finally the quarterly
meeting was held at Longridge, where Elder Mimms had
gathered the preachers together on the circuit. At the
previous Conference he had licensed me to preach; and
though I could not reach the Conference on Saturday,
being twenty miles away, he assured the people that I
would be on hand Sunday.

I was a little late in arriving on Sunday, but was
in time to hear the close of the eleven o'clock sermon.
As we rode up Elder Mimms stopped long enough to
say: “Thank God he has come! Now we'll have some
preaching.” Many brethren came out to greet me,
which made me blush very much. They conducted me
inside, and all eyes were fixed on me.

The elder closed his sermon, dinner was spread, and
all enjoyed a luxuriant feast. The interval was largely
given to eating and introducing me to strangers, after
which the afternoon services were opened. Rev. Charley
Cox and I were appointed to preach. He took the
lead, and had preached but a short while before he
excused himself upon the ground that he could not preach
in the presence of “big” preachers. This was a little
funny to me, as I was no big preacher and had been
licensed only three months. It was what he had heard
of me that bothered him. After he would not preach,
I rose to give them the best I had at hand. Such a
time! such a time! They had invited the white people
to come out to hear me. The fiery Charles Ingraham
said that he certainly wished for Rev. Charles Cox's
place. Blessed was Ingraham, for shame and timidity
were strangers to him. His wife heard the Alabamian
that day; though, while much delighted, she was not
prepared to say that he excelled her dear Charley. She
waited until night, when the Alabamian and her
husband would both preach.

Night came and the services began, The Alabamian
went before, and Rev. Ingraham was to close. He
did his best that night; but while on their way home that
night Mrs. Cox said to him: “I have heard all the
preaching to-day, and I think that Mr. Jamison did
the best preaching of them all.” He said he laughed
so that he came near falling out of his vehicle. “I told
you so. Of course I did the best I could, but had my
serious doubts as to whether I had measured up to Rev.
Mr. Jamison or not.”

I went home Monday morning, went to work, meditating
all the week upon that Sunday's success. They
were still engaged in their meeting at Antioch—the
Baptist Church. I went out and joined them; and
my blade now being sharp, I cut right and left. O! it
was a precious time we had in the revivals.

CHAPTER VIII

Admitted on Trial into the East Texas Conference—My First
Appointment—Marriage—Struggles with Other
Denominations in Dallas—Built the First Colored Church in
Dallas—Why Called “Fighting Joe”—My First Appointment
as Presiding Elder.

I CHANCED to meet a Miss Minerva A. Flinnoy, with
whom I was very much impressed, especially with her
beauty and modest bearing. I asked Rev. Patterson
one day who she was and what of her. “She is my
sister-in-law,” he said. “O, that can't be true! Well,
where has she been all the while?” I asked “At home
with the measles,” he said. He gave me an introduction
to her. I do not know all that I said to her; but one
thing I do know, and that is, I decided to ask her to marry
me. I paid her a visit, and she blushed when I asked
of her the privilege of waiting on her, preferable to all
others. She was a sweet, beautiful young lady, and I
could not help thinking of her. I guess I must have paid
due attention to her, because there were other ladies to
whom I had paid a great deal of attention, and they
discovered that I had lost interest in them by some means;
hence I was teased no little about Miss Flinnoy. I
liked the girl's parents very well, but the old lady gave
me to understand that she could not think of giving
me her daughter. I took it for granted that she objected
because I was a stranger, and I was unwilling to
marry into a family that mistrusted me. She was right
for not being willing to give her daughter in matrimony
to a stranger, but I afterwards found that that was not
the real objection. She had only two daughters. Rev.
Mr. Patterson, the Baptist preacher, had married the
eldest, and the youngest she intended to keep with her.
Besides this, she said that her daughter was too young
to make me a wife.

I had about given up the idea of succeeding in my
undertaking, notwithstanding the fact that the girl had
said yes; but when I learned the real grounds of objection,
I pressed my claims to a finish. When I convinced
the old lady of my sincerity, she waived her own
pleasure in the matter and gave me her daughter.

The Quarterly Conference had by this time recommend
me to the Annual Conference to be admitted
on trial. I arranged matters for admission into the
East Texas Conference. Having purchased a horse, I
hired a buggy and drove to Henderson, a distance of
seventy-five miles. Arriving there the second day, I
found the Conference fully at work, with Bishop Lane
presiding.

Among the members of that Conference were Moses
Butler, Cyrus Wolf, Charles Ingraham, Henry Jackson,
J. H. Jackson, George Byrd, H. Leroy, Prather Wilson,
Green Bohannan, William Taylor, John Williams,
E. B. Campbell, S. Townsend, Noe Bell, Harry Sharp,
Harry Peel, Daniel Mimms, A. J. Burrus, Henry Reed,
Robert Hagler, Alfred Alston, Wesley Walker, Richard
McAlliston, and Spencer Westmoreland. I passed
a very poor examination before the committee; but as
that was common in those days, the committee asked that
I be admitted and ordained deacon. I was only a lad;
but Elder Mimms had said so much in my favor that the
Committee on Public Worship appointed me to preach
on Friday night. That came very near frightening me
to death, though perhaps no one knew it but I. I
soon recovered, and from the text, “In him was life,”
etc., it was said that I preached the sermon of the
Conference.

Returning from Conference, I was married to Miss
Flinnoy on January 14, 1874. This course was decided
upon for mutual happiness and self-protection during
the remaining days of my life. We succeeded splendidly
during the first years of our married life. We raised
six bales of cotton and I rode the Marshall and Longview
Stations as pastor. The charge merely paid my
traveling expenses, but my wife assisted me so that I
had more money at the end of the year than I have had
at the end of any year since.

I made a serious mistake when I joined the East
Texas Conference; and had it not been for this mistake,
I could have made my wife a happier woman. There
has been a constant changing from place to place,
involving heavy losses to us. Many of these changes were
unwise and unnecessary.

The Methodist polity is all right in spirit when it
has experience and forethought to administer it; but it
works great hardships when it has to depend upon the
inexperienced, prejudiced, etc., to direct it. Having
been subjected to much of this inexperience and prejudice,
I can truthfully say that it has interfered no little
with that peace and happiness which I sought in marriage.
The appointing power is an awful thing when
perverted and abused. It entails much suffering upon
the wives of ministers. I have often thought that it
would be much better if there were no such power,
especially if it had to be placed in the hands of any
except the wise and experienced. I view with pain and
sadness the suffering of the wives of many of the ministers
of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church. I
am not unmindful of the fact that such is necessarily
the case in all Methodist bodies, but it seems to
have outdone itself in our Church; and yet I cannot
justly charge all this to the inexperienced. The thing
that should be done is to see to it that none but true
men be invested with the appointing power.

The bishop assigned me to the Marshall and Longview
Stations in 1874. We had five members in Marshall
and eight in Longview when I entered the charge,
but no church at either place. When I had finished
that year's work and gone to Conference, I had forty
members in Longview and twenty in Marshall, which
I thought was first-rate for the first year. I should have
been returned; but the bishop said “No,” which made
some of the members cry.

This Conference for the year 1874 convened in the
city of Sherman, with Bishop Lane presiding. Sherman
was at that time famous for the virtue and chastity of
its beautiful women. I thought it excelled any place
that I had ever visited in Texas. The white people
there were and are still the best people in the South.
The pastor and leading members of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, South, threw open the doors of their
church to admit our Conference and attended its sessions
night and day. Many of their best and most pious
women attended every one of the sessions, and seemed
to have been much delighted with the Bishop's sermons.

The Western territory of our Church was being overrun
with ministers of the Methodist Episcopal and African
Methodist Episcopal Churches. This seemed to
annoy the Bishop very much, as these ministers were
causing much desertion from our Church by their
misrepresentations. The A. M. E.'s had done us much
damage in Dallas and Fort Worth. The men who were
sent to hold these city charges against the A. M. E.'s
could not understand them. Our men were old, homespun
men; the others were manufactured and imported
men, finely dressed, who demanded respect from the
intelligent people, while our men were domestic men.

Longview and Marshall desired my return, but the
Bishop said publicly that he wanted me for Dallas.
That was the grandest Conference, to be sure. I felt
very much delighted with it.

The appointments having been read, I found myself
headed for Dallas. I shall never forget our trials there.
I took charge about the first of February, 1875. Dallas
was and still is the finest and fastest place in North
Texas. Much depended upon my success in getting up a
church building for our denomination. The odds were
all against us. In fact, I was a mere experiment. I
had never seen services of that kind and on such a large
scale. I was not used to ministers getting up and
intentionally misrepresenting things for the purpose of
carrying things in favor of their Church. Whether I would
be able to get the ears of the public long enough to
expose them was the first difficult question, yet this seemed
to be the only remedy. Whether I could expose them
after getting the public's ear was doubtful; but I felt
able, and accordingly watched for opportunities. Rev.
J. R. Bryant, the African Methodist Episcopal preacher
there, was not much of a preacher; but whatever he
lacked in this respect was supplemented otherwise, so,
as a whole, he was no weak opponent. The majority of
the people worshiped with him at his church on Sunday
nights, but few went there during the day. In fact,
the people did not go to church much in the daytime.

The Rev. Charles R. Madison, of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, was much of a Christian minister. No
better man ever served St. Paul Methodist Episcopal
Church as pastor. He was blessed with a graceful woman
who was his equal in Church work, except the ministry
of the gospel. She had the best Sunday school in
Dallas; it numbered over a hundred students each Sabbath
morning. I made these people my friends,
notwithstanding that they were eager to gobble up all of
my members that the A. M. E.'s had left. They thought,
however, to do it in a more dignified way than the
A. M. E.'s had done.

My serious trouble was that I had no church in which
to herd my flock; but I was straining every nerve to
build one, and this gave some encouragement to my
people to stand firm. What I disliked so much in the
African Methodist Episcopal minister was that he
delighted in calling us the Southern Church, the
Democratic Church, etc. He did not care for the falsehood
that was in the epithet; his object was to set people
against us. The Methodist Episcopal minister was too
much of a gentleman to stoop to such things. He lived
above such. It began to look as if we would get our
church erected in spite of them. The Southern white
people gave largely toward helping us.

The Rev. A. J. Burrus, with seventeen members, withdrew
and went over to the Methodist Episcopal Church
under the delusion that it was a rich Church, a free
Church, and a Union Church. The same night they
left it was announced that the first quarterly meeting
for the Methodist Episcopal Church was to be held in
town. Special services were to be conducted at the
Tabernacle Church, on Elm Street, at 11 A.M. by the
presiding elder, Dr. Brush, and at St. Paul at 3 P.M.
Rev. Burrus had visited from house to house during the
previous week, inviting all to come out and hear the
elder at 3 P.M. The services were to close with the whites at
Elm Street Sunday morning.

The elder filled his engagement with the blacks at
3 P.M., and a large crowd greeted him from all the
Churches. Rev. Mr. Bryant, of the African Methodist
Episcopal Church, was filling an engagement out in the
country, leaving no service to be held at his church. As
I had no church and consequently no service that morning,
the members of each Church went to hear the elder.
The elder had prepared to make an onslaught that evening
upon all the Methodist Churches except his own. I
had thought it wise to remain away, but when the elder
sent for my Discipline my suspicions were aroused. I
sent it and decided to go and defend it; so I went and
received a hearty welcome. Rev. Madison, the pastor,
seated me in the pulpit. The elder asked me to lead in
prayer. I saw a dark cloud gathering, and I prayed
that it might pass without emptying its fearful contents
upon us; but the prayer was vain.

The text selected for the occasion was, “Jehovah
Jireh” (“The Lord will provide”). The elder preached
a powerful sermon, which edified the Christians; but at
the outset he remarked that he would lecture on the
different Churches, and that if any one wished any
information he might feel free to ask it of him. He also
stated that any one might reply to him if he so desired.
With this he took the history of the Methodist Church
proper, that being his Church, of course. It was a
grand picture. He told of the hundreds of battles it
had fought for the freedom of the slaves, and of the
sufferings of the poor, helpless slaves. The congregation
shed tears freely. The elder told them of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, South, and the cruelty of some of
its members to slaves. The congregation said: “True,
Lord!” He next told them that the Methodist Episcopal
Church knew no man by his color or condition;
that every member was equal in his Church. And,
besides, it had spent millions of dollars for the colored
people, and therefore they all ought to join it and have
only one Methodist Church as in the early days. To
this proposition many in the vast audience said “Amen.”
I felt serious—very serious, too. He next took up the
Discipline of the African Methodist Episcopal Church;
and after a careful examination he declared it to be that
of a lot of seceders who, for the sake of office, broke
from the true Methodist Church, and that it was set up
by non-Methodists; that its episcopacy was ordained by
strangers to Methodist polity, and, therefore it was not
a Methodist Church. He ridiculed things as a mere
concern. The strange thing about all this was that
the African Methodist Episcopal members said “Amen”
as loud as any of the others, nowithstanding that the
elder was simply tearing their Church into threads.

The elder now laid aside the African Methodist
Episcopal Discipline and reached for the Discipline of the
African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church. The people
knew nothing of that Church, there being no such
Church in Texas, and consequently they could not
appreciate what he said. But when he reached for the
Discipline of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church, I
trembled. “Here is a so-called Methodist Church
recently organized by the Methodist Episcopal Church,
South,” he said. “I can see no need of more Methodist
Churches. Why did not the Southern Methodists
retain their colored members and educate them?” he asked.
“The Methodist Episcopal Church has ever been the
true friend to you, and has spent millions of dollars for
your education—I mean millions for the poor ex-slaves.
Look at the difference between these two white Methodist
Churches. The Southern Methodists parted from
the Methodists proper because the latter did not believe
in slavery. Now that the slaves are free, they made
haste to rid themselves of them by pretending to set
them up in business for themselves. What can they
do of themselves? Our friends can readily see who their
real friends are;” he said.

I saw that he was merely using the Southern Methodists
as a cat's-paw to paw our members out of our
Church into his, and he was about to succeed, too. I
got so full that I could not wait for him to finish. I
rose from my seat and stood up behind him. He then
turned to me and said that if I had anything to say
or ask he would hear me. All eyes now turned to me.
I was serious about the matter. I thanked him for
allowing me a reply, and then addressed myself to some
things that he had said concerning the Colored Methodist
Episcopal Church:

It is not in my heart to approve of the treatment meted
out to the colored people by the Southern whites. I want
that distinctly understood. The truth is, I was opposed to
mixing with either of the white Churches; for both were
avoiding the negroes as much as possible, which I will
show as follows;

In the days of slavery the elders and preachers would
preach for the whites at 11 A.M. and for the blacks at
3 P.M. Now, then, if the same thing is practiced to-day by
either, that fact will show that the same disposition is still
maintained.

“That's right,” said a voice in the audience.

Very well; let's see. This morning the elder preached
and administered the sacrament to the whites, and at three
o'clock where is he? Out here with the colored people.
Bear in mind, my friends, the elder said that there is no
difference in the Church on account of race. This cannot
be true, else they all would be together worshiping God
to-day. No; the fact is, his Church is simply doing what
the whites did in slave times.

O, my friends, I warn you all against allowing your
minds to be inflamed by the elder's reference to those
things; better to let that part alone. It was such advice
as this which kindled strife between the races and brought
on the Ku-Klux Klan. Yes, my friends, this sort of talk
and friendship was the cause of many of your sons, brothers,
and husbands being murdered. So I advise you to
have nothing to do with this old fellow's Church. Don't
join any Church that seeks to build upon the evils of the
past. Don't join any Church that tries to mix you up with
the white people. Never seek to mix with a people who do
not want your company. The C. M. E. Church has bishops,
elders, and preachers all of its own color. This old fellow's
Church never allowed a colored man to become a bishop.
That proves that there is a color line in his Church beyond
which they do not allow the colored man to pass. Dallas
is the last city in the State in he ought to attempt
to preach his union and equality about his Church; for here
they have two Churches, one for the whites and one for the
blacks.

Here I paused, and the elder asked why I so opposed
his Church. Rev. A. J. Burrus answered by saying that
I was afraid they would get more of my members. I
cooled myself and then said:

No, it is not that. We have no more deadheads in our
Church who would join the M. E.'s for a suit of old clothes,
as Brother Burrus has done. My friends, this suit which
Brother Burrus has on was given him by them. [Applause.]

The elder said: “It is not true; tell the truth.”

Well, if I am telling anything but the truth, you must
lay the blame on Brother Burrus, for he told me and a dozen
others that they had given it to him. [Applause.]

Another thing. The elder said that his Church had millions
of dollars for the colored people if they would join
him. Well, about seventeen persons have joined it, but
they don't show up any better in their homes and dress
than those who refused to sell their membership for
second-hand clothes. [Applause.]

I then left the church. The elder tried to have me
remain for the communion. I told him I was full of
strife and not fit to commune, so I went on.

Rev. Madison felt much concerned over the way things
were then turning, because they brought no good for
him. The meeting in its inception bade fair to be a
successful one for his Church. Everybody seemed to be
on tiptoes respecting the Methodist Episcopal Church,
but I stood there and exposed their inconsistency with
a boldness that dazzled and confused them no little.
Mrs. Madison fell out with me because I accused her
elder of bringing in the Ku-Klux Klan. I sympathized
with her, but there was no help for it. Finally she forgave
me, inasmuch as it was impossible to do any more
real Church work in her Church. She, with her husband,
worshiped with me and my congregation nearly
every Sabbath thereafter.

That Sunday's service was the last real service that
they held for months. The people seemed to avoid
attending that church; and notwithstanding the Methodist
Episcopal Church in Dallas has had able pastors
from year to year, it has never entirely recovered from
the shock of that Sunday. It impoverishes every preacher
assigned to it. I am free to admit that the Methodist
Episcopal Church has done more to educate the colored
race than any other Church in America; and if it
were not Northern in its white membership, it could
and would do more to solve the race question than all
other agencies combined. But the fact of its Northern
origin robs it of its great power in the South. In fact,
its existence among the negroes simply widens the chasm
between the races in the South. The colored Methodists
of that Church will be better off when they are to
themselves.

Our Church in Dallas had to contend with heavy
opposition; but she had courage equal to it all,
notwithstanding that she was unfortunate in losing some of
her best material. When I assumed the charge as
pastor I found that all the best material, such as leaders
and stewards, had gone. Brother James McKinney was
a genuine C. M. E. and was always ready to lend advice
and counsel and to do his whole duty in carrying
out his share of the work. He always solicited more aid
from the public for the building than all the others.

Next to McKinney came S.P. Johnson. Brother
Johnson was a man of much tact, though not the true
type of the Christian that he now is. McKinney, like the
great Moses of old, was slow in speech and could make
but little headway at singing; therefore he was not fitted
for the Sunday school nor for opening public worship.
It was in him to assist me as pastor in that
part of the service, though he could do but little. Johnson
ran a kind of shaving shop at his house, and his
best business came on Sunday mornings. He was never
on time for the Sabbath school, and was generally
late for the eleven o'clock service; therefore I had to be
Sunday school superintendent, class leader, steward, and
pastor. Had I not acted in those various positions, it
is hard to say what would have become of the Colored
Methodist Episcopal Church in Dallas. After Johnson
lost his sight he became a most devoted Christian, and
is to this day regarded as the leader in all affairs of the
Church in Dallas. I mention this fact because I have
noticed what a great benefit adversity was to Brother
Johnson, and to show that adversity is sometimes a
blessing in disguise. Had Brother Johnson retained his
sight, the chances would have been against his ever being
the Christian he resolved to be after losing his sight.
Let us learn a true lesson from this sad event in Brother
Johnson's life. Never retreat in the time of adversity.
Believe in God and push onward and upward, and
in the end success will be yours.

I received a very small salary for services rendered in
Dallas as pastor during the year 1875, but I erected the
first colored church in that city; therefore I felt rich
in the thought that I had mastered the situation.

The Annual Conference of 1875 met at Jacksonville.
Bishop L. H. Holsey, the second greatest man in
the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church, presided. This
man is every inch an orator, the most polished I had
ever heard; indeed, he is a great man. He used so to
charm his hearers when preaching that they seemed to
have lost their reason. Elder William Taylor, the big
Texas preacher, could not hear Bishop Holsey a moment
without his mouth flying open.

It was at Jacksonville that Bishop Holsey recognized
my services to the Church by calling upon me to preside
over the Conference. I love Bishop Holsey because
his heart is free from prejudice and ignorant clamor.
If a young man were developing into full, true manhood,
he was not afraid of him. He was not fearful lest the
youngster might rival him. He never said to the young
man: “Come so far and no farther; go so far and no
farther.” If there is anything that I hate in a bishop,
it is his ill treatment of a young minister in the vain
hope of downing or getting even with him. I know of
just such instances; and however wise may be the appointments
of that bishop, there is always a suspicion
that they are made with prejudice.

I was returned to Dallas for 1876. We went on reaping
the fruits of good seed sown the previous year. The
citizens no longer regarded our Church as the Democratic
Church. Consequently my services were largely
attended during the morning, in the afternoon, and at
night. My church was full to overflowing. The Christians
(Campbellites) were simply carried away with my
church services, and made it a point to attend in large
numbers, thus swelling the congregation. The Presbyterians
did not take to our Church. For some cause
they always preferred the M. E.'s. It may seem strange,
but neither of the two Churches has succeeded in Dallas.
But, on the other hand, the Campbellites and C.M. E.'s
are powerful there.

Rev. E. W. Mosley was then stationed at Marshall,
Tex., and, visiting Dallas, he rendered me no little service
in my series of meetings. Many souls were brought
to Christ and joined the Church. So from henceforth
I had all things common.

Bishop Lane held the District Conference in the new
church, and in the presence of a large assembly he expressed
much surprise at my success. I am amused
when I remember why and how they called me “Fighting
Joe.” One day we were reading history and came
to an account of a certain battle fought by the famous
General Joe Hooker. Not many days afterwards the
ecclesiastical battle was waged between Elder Brush and
me. It was from that controversy that every one who
was conversant with the battle and title given to General
Hooker called me “Fighting Joe.” The term as applied
to me, I think, was always misleading. I never
was a fighter, as is commonly implied by the term, after
I became a Christian, though I was a ready debater. In
fact, nothing was ever more pleasing to me than
controversy of a good-natured sort. On measures of grave
importance I have attracted some of the ablest men
of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church, and in the
controversy I generally covered myself with applause
from the public. The only man that I ever met in
controversy and regarded as my equal or more than
a match for me was Bishop L. H. Holsey, of Georgia.
I must confess that I was unwilling to tackle him on
more than one occasion. But I often went after him because
there was no one else in sight; all others kept
themselves hid and in silence. I admit that I have seen
the time when silence was a jewel even in great men,
but such a time rarely comes nowadays.

The Annual Conference of 1876 convened in Dallas,
with Bishop J. A Beebe presiding. This was the first
time I met the new Bishop. I found him to be a man
of ripe experience and rare ability. He proceeded with
the Conference affairs in a businesslike manner. I loved
him for his fatherly movement among men. He was a
very fine preacher, too, but fell short of Bishop Holsey.
The ministers all loved Bishop Beebe.

Bishop Holsey had recommended me to the new Bishop,
and said that he would assign me, as a coming young
man, to the Dallas District as presiding elder in 1877,
succeeding Elder Campbell Jackson. This new position
I found to be a difficult one and very different from
that of the pastorate. I began the first round of the
district at the city of Bonham in February, 1877. I
stopped off at Sherman and spent a few days with Rev.
E. W. Mosley, the pastor.

It was while stopping over at Sherman that Rev. S.
Townsell, who had succeeded me as pastor at Dallas,
came up from that city to confer with me concerning
a grievous rumor which was set afloat at Dallas respecting
a certain woman and myself. I told him to return
to Dallas and, if he thought it necessary, call a committee
of preachers, inquire into the nature of the rumor,
and report to the Bishop if they thought a trial necessary.
He returned to Dallas and, sure enough, called
E. W. Mosley, H. Reed, E. B. Campbell, Levi Edmonds,
and Campbell Jackson. All went but Rev. Jackson.
After carefully investigating the case, they decided that
a trial was not necessary and thus wrote the Bishop.
I should have appeared before the investigating committee,
but remained sixty-four miles away, knowing
my ability to defeat the evil intentions of the three
evil parties should it come to a trial. I was indifferent
concerning the whole matter. I thanked Rev. Mosley
for the part he played in defeating the three persons
and the one preacher on the committee who sought my
downfall simply because I had been promoted above
him. I went on filling appointments in every charge.
These evil-minded persons only succeeded in making me
the more popular.

I remember my first day's visit to Gainesville because
of the hard day's walk it cost me to reach the town,
situated about thirty-eight miles west of Sherman. I
had come up from Dallas that morning on the train,
but arrived too late for the hack to Gainesville. I decided
that I was too young to miss my appointment
when only thirty-eight miles intervened. Leaving Sherman
in the morning at 9:30 o'clock, I reached Gainesville
at 8 P.M., traveling the thirty-eight miles in nine
and one-half hours, which I thought good enough for a
man who carried a twenty-five-pound valise. It broke
me up so that I was almost a week recovering.

August brought on the camp meeting season. We
held two meetings, one at Dallas and the other at Van
Alstyne. The results of these meetings were indeed
gratifying in the highest degree. The ministers who
assisted me at Van Alstyne were Alfred Alston, E. W.
Mosley, H. Reed, S. Townsell, and Walter Marshall.
There was a Mr. —, an old white man, who attended
every sermon. One day on the eve of closing the
meeting he said to John Moss: “I have listened to all of
your preachers, and have formed the following opinion
of them: Mosley is the best-educated. Alston is the
best sermonizer. Townsell is the most sensational; he
always seeks to create shouting, even if he has to jump
over the pulpit. Reed is all wind and bluster, and will
never make a preacher. Marshall is not much of a
preacher. Jamison is the most able and successful of
them all. He goes deep for the sense of his subject. No
man can hear him and not feel the force of his argument.
He is not educated, nor does he need to be; for
when he begins to preach, his God fills him with more
than he can express.”

Dropping down to the Dallas Camp Meeting, and finding
Rev. Townsell in a hard pitched battle, I went in
with unusual zeal. Standing before a vast audience,
having gotten well into the depth of my subject and
feeling so elated over the effects of it upon the vast
assembly, I all at once forgot myself and turned to
the preachers on the platform and said to them: “This
is Jamison preaching to-day, and he is preaching, too!”
“Amen! Amen!” shouted voices in the audience. I
came to myself and felt mean for having used the term.
Johnson and the preachers teased me enough for my arrogance,
though it was good-naturedly done. It was
the Spirit of Christ by which I preached, hence it was
sinful to ascribe it to myself. I simply forgot to imitate
St. Paul on that occasion. Twenty-two years have
rolled away, but the brethren have not forgotten to
tease me about it yet. The meeting resulted in great
good.

The Colored Methodist Episcopal Church now held
full sway in all North Texas. The A. M. E.'s had employed
many devices to delude the people so as to get
them into their Church. They would rig up a crowd
of shouting sisters and whooping brothers and go from
town to town shouting and whooping; but we held them
back in every city save Bonham, where they broke in in
spite of Reed, Townsell, and Campbell Jackson.

I had some trouble in supplying the Sherman Circuit
with a minister. Rev. H. Reed, who was assigned
to the charge, for some cause abandoned it. I submitted
to the wishes of that people and preached for them
once a month. I managed somehow to do so and at the
same time hold nearly all of my quarterly meetings.

Van Alstyne Circuit was at that time the Sherman
Circuit. I used to think that the best colored people
in North Texas resided there. They were truly religious
and always enjoyed divine worship. Messrs. Jacob Murphy,
Arch McKinney, Shepherd Milam, Samuel Lynch,
Hunt, Raggling, and Everett were leading spirits among
the people. These, with many others, such as Mr. J. R.
Boddie, were real citizens. Rev. W. R. Grundy, the true
and great, succeeded me as pastor. Notwithstanding
that he had much with which to contend, he wrought a
good work. Grundy was a true type of the primitive
preacher, never careful about his dress or appearance.
He was a man of prayer and a great power as a Christian
minister. He located at Pittsburg, Tex., in 1883.

CHAPTER IX.

The East Texas Conference—Editor and Publisher of the
East Texas Conference Christian Advocate—On the Tyler
District as Presiding Elder.

THE East Texas Conference convened at Longview
in November, 1877, with Bishop Beebe presiding. I
had once served that people as their first pastor, and now
I met with the kindest greetings. Every home extended
me a cordial welcome.

Revs. William Taylor, Moses Butler, Daniel Mimms,
Cyrus Wolf, Robert A. Hagler, and John Williams were
large window lights in that Conference. It was at
this Conference that the ministers seemed to be alive
for the first time in their history to the great work
before them. They all manifested anxiety to leave their
old standpoints and reach out for the richer fields which
seemed to lie just on ahead of them. They wanted a
school, education, and a circulating medium. The
Index was about dead, considering the good it ought to
have accomplished for the Church and its people. This
fact seemed to justify the Conference in starting a
paper of its own. The Bishop joined the ministers and
laymen in starting the new enterprise. Rev. A. H.
Jones, of Arkansas, was chosen editor. The first issue
was published at Dallas in April, 1878, with Mr. Sam
Townsell as agent, who brought out three or four issues
and was about to suspend its publication because the
brethren proved to be given more to promises than to
paying their shares. Bishop Beebe urged me to run the
paper and not allow the enterprise to fail. I took him
at his word when he assured me that the money I spent
upon it would return to enrich me in the near future.
Rev. Jones finally resigned as editor, hence I had to be
editor and publisher and also presiding elder in the
meantime. It is easy now to account for my poverty.
Still I am expecting some day to reap a rich harvest
from the seeds sown in the State of Texas.

Coming to think of the educational impulse which
actuated the ministers and people at the Conference of
1877, I am much pained when I remember how it was all
blasted at Crockett the following year. Another bishop
succeeded Bishop Beebe and looked with disfavor upon
the contemplated school. He in a few words so chilled
the brethren that they despaired almost of everything
except preaching. Our Texas enterprise was then about
killed; and although much has been attempted since that
period, nothing of real interest up to the date of this
writing has yet been accomplished. This can easily be
accounted for when we remember that the Conference
was without proper leaders; and I may add that the
growth of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church is a
standing indorsement of God's favor when we consider
the great scarcity of well-prepared leaders. God has
mercifully pushed on the Church until it now begins
to be recognized as a power for good throughout the Union.
The Church has been everything but wisely
manned. She might ere this have been an educational
force, wielding great influence and power in lifting the
ignorant thousands with whom she mingles daily. But
proper leaders were scarce, hence progress was slow.

Bishop W. H. Miles was vested with the highest
authority to lead the Church on to power and prosperity;
but there were not enough brains and tact in the Church
to carry out his ideals of a great school for a great
Church, hence the first and greatest effort of this great
man failed. It was a crying shame on the Church.
One of the greatest impediments to our educational
enterprise has been the promises made to our men by the
Methodist Episcopal Church, South, very few of which
have been fulfilled. Still our leaders indulged in the
hope that the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, in
view of the many schools erected for negroes by the
Methodist Episcopal Church, would come to the help of
the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church and thus make
a creditable record in this respect; but nearly all of this
has terminated as a mere dream.

The Methodist Episcopal Church, South, has been
looking toward foreign countries upon which to spend
their educational means. For some cause the South
looks upon Africa with disdain. The Colored Methodist
Episcopal Church is fully able to establish and
maintain at least half a dozen high schools for negroes, which
might have been equipped in full had it not been for the
vain hope of aid from the Methodist Episcopal Church, South.

The Conference of 1877 adjourned on Monday night.
I went to the Tyler District as presiding elder. Our
district stewards' meeting at Tyler in January assessed
the salary and traveling expenses of the presiding elder
at seven hundred and fifty dollars and a horse to ride
over the district. I then returned to Dallas and
arranged for selling out and going to the work assigned
me. I held my first quarterly meeting at Universe,
three miles from Tyler. Berry Goss, Robert Greenleaf,
Lewis Cranford, and McCarkle were among the strong
men of this Church.

I hope that it may not be considered boasting in me
to say that the Baptist ministers were giving the
Methodists much trouble concerning their doctrines, and this
appeared to be getting the best of Elders Taylor, Butler,
and their young ministers. My record in the West
led Bishop Beebe to believe that I was equal to the
task of unhorsing any Baptist minister within the district.

Closing at Universe, I passed on to Chapel Hill. The
quarterly meeting there was very large—larger than
some of the District Conferences which I attended in
the West. Benjamin Goodacre, George Jackson, and
Edward Anderson were wheel horses at Chapel Hill;
also Holt, Jesse Warren, Stephen Oliver, Green
Morehead, Aaron Moland, Jacob Warren, and Moses Goodacre
were men who could not be beaten at this place.
Mrs. F. A. Warren, Aunt Goodacre, Vinia Oliver,
Catherine Holt, Eliza Mitchell, Sarah Black, Vinia
Anderson, and the Mrs. Mosleys were all truly great
women. They were true wives, clean housekeepers,
and as pure as fine linen. I like to recall those days,
because in so doing I am refreshed and thus richly
rewarded for the struggles of those days of toil and joy.

I did my very best at Chapel Hill in the way of
preaching, because the way in which the people assembled
made them deserving of the very best. They came
up manfully to the help of the stewards. I remained
here several days with Rev. H. P. Hollingsworth, the
pastor, and his people.

I next went to Starville, where I met a vast crowd,
largely mixed with white people. My text was from
John i. 17. Mr. Samuel Waters was the most celebrated
steward there; and when he called for help, the
whites gave their dollars and remarked that the new
elder was as sharp as a brier. That was a grand time
with Methodists. Brothers Pinkston, Mosley, William
Webb, Alexander, John Pinkston, and Richard Burchard
were the lights in the Starville Church.

I returned to Tyler, rested, and then went to Mt.
Zion, in Van Zandt. Here I met Judge Runnels,
Brothers Hill, Richard Jacobs, E. Curtis, Aaron Neal,
and Stephen Webb, who were men of much enterprise
and zeal. They erected the best church in that section
of the country. Richard Jacobs became one of the noted
men of his neighborhood. He was a delegate to several
sessions of the East Texas Conference and to the General
Conference which met at Augusta, Ga., in 1886. He
made a very useful member on committees.

CHAPTER X.

Some Remarks on Trial by Committee and on the Duty of
the President.

IT is never the duty of the President to urge a case
pro or con. Such a course would likely prejudice the
minds of the committee and thus prove hurtful to the
cause of justice. The President should always bear in
mind that it is the committee that is to weigh the
evidence in the case, and that it is under oath to bring in
a verdict. Therefore all evidence may be admitted,
unless it should be objected to by the counsel as foreign to
the case. The President hears all points under discussion
and decides whether or not they may be admitted.
This, of course, sometimes affords ground for exceptions
and appeals. It is also the duty of the President to
decide all questions of law which may arise as a controversy
or otherwise relative to the case in question.

I attended a trial once where a preacher was charged
with gross immorality. The proceedings were quite
strange to me. The case was opened and the counsel for
the Church read a bill of charge; but, contrary to the
usual course, he also read the deposition which he used
as evidence. This having been done, the President asked
the committee if they desired to say anything further.
Just here he reminded the committee that the defendant
had requested that he be allowed the aid of two ministers
as counselors, and so had the Church; but the
President raised objection to allowing more than one to
each side. The counsel for the defendant next sought
to break down the evidence of a certain witness by
impeachment. He proposed to prove that the witness was
unworthy of credibility upon the ground that she was of
ill repute. The President here reminded the defendant
that that would make it much harder for him, because it
would show that he had lodged at a house of ill fame.
Thus the defendant was deprived of one of his main
points. The critic thought that was unjust, for many
thousands of good men are often among houses of ill
fame. They are sent not alone to the pure, but to all.
The Chairman presumed that the admission of such
testimony was questionable upon the ground that it was not
or might not be genuine; that if the M.D. could be
present, it might be admitted. So it was ruled out,
notwithstanding that I was sworn before a notary public
and had the seal of office stamped upon the document.

Let us view this ruling for a moment, and I think we
shall find a cause for serious exception to it. Both
sides had to rely upon depositions. The defendant had
the only witness present; but, as I have previously
stated, his evidence was ruled out. If it were fair to
allow the Church to prosecute the case upon a deposition, it
also would have been fair to allow the defendant the
right of such testimony in his defense; but being
denied such deprived the defendant of any defense whatever.

Strange to say, the case was given to the committee
in this unjust shape, and of course the committee said
“Guilty”—every one of them. What else could they have
said? Facts which would have acquitted the defendant
were ruled out. The defendant moved an appeal; but
the Chairman said that that course would set him in
a bad light before the Church and the world, and,
besides, it would leave him two years out of the ministry.
The Chairman thought the better way for him would be
to make a prayer before the Conference for pardon. The
matter was taken under advisement until the next day.
To this the Chairman objected. Hence he prayed a
prayer before the public for the purpose of praying for
pardon and restoration. Although the defendant had
not been proved guilty, he made the prayer for pardon
and asked the Conference to revoke the verdict of the
committee. To this the Chairman objected. Hence he
prayed a prayer accepting the verdict of the committee
with such facts as they had before them, but did not
plead guilty as charged; he simply accepted the verdict as
correct according to the evidence before it. After caviling
over the power of the Conference to pardon and
restore, a vote was taken and the defendant was restored.

The critic was amused at the Chairman when he
unhorsed the opposition to a restoration and pardon by
first putting the question of pardon. All seemed
willing to pardon him, but thought upon restoration as quite
another thing. The vote to pardon was a unit, but the
vote to restore was divided. This seemed very strange
to the critic, as he thought a pardon always carried
restoration with it. If the defendant were pardoned,
he must be regarded as innocent or a pardon could be
of no value. But, after all, they had not pardoned him,
for he had already been expelled. He had paid the fine
in full when he was expelled. How, then, could he be
pardoned unless he was on second trial found guilty
and then pardoned before paying the penalty? Strange,
was it not? They pardoned him and restored him too.
I had never before in all of my life seen the dead pardoned.

The critic prepared the petition; but he preferred to
appeal the case, as he never did believe they could,
neither did he believe they would, attempt to pardon the
defendant, as he was pronounced expelled already. But
the critic proposed to convince himself by presenting
the petition as suggested by the Chair.

CHAPTER XI.

Leaving the Western Section—Divisions Found in the Shiloh
Church—Events at Henderson—Out among the Brethren
in Their Revival Meetings and Holding Quarterly Conferences.

TAKING leave of the West, and believing that the cold
winds had ceased, I made the mistake of having my hair
cut too close, and before I could get away from Dallas
I was caught in a snowstorm with no hair on my head.
Thus I contracted a severe neuralgia from which I
suffered the most intense pain for four weeks. It was this
irritating disease which hurried me on to Longview,
where Mrs. Jamison, my devoted wife, was stopping. I
had hoped that she would be able to relieve me of my
misery; but finding no relief, I pushed on to Hopewell
Church, where I met my Quarterly Conference.

Rev. Elias Powell resided near this church, and was
very helpful to me in getting through with the work
of the Conference. This people, like most all others,
were sadly in need of a house in which to worship.
Generally the people were great lovers of divine service.
Shouting seemed to have been the order of the day, but
they seemed entirely devoid of any real Church pride.
Every congregation in Smith County was able to erect a
fine and decent house of worship; but having no Church
pride, it was almost impossible to make them believe
that they were able to build anything but the crudest
house of worship.

I found thousands of people in and around Overton,
Tyler, Longview, and Henderson. I heard while at
Overton that there was a great schism in the Shiloh
Church, on the Henderson Circuit. The Rev. Joseph
Lloyd had been assigned to that charge; and entering
thereupon, he thought it Christlike to abide with
sinners as well as Christians, which was nothing more than
right, as he had been sent there to save sinners. But
many and very serious objections were made to this
course; and in addition to this, they accused him of
preaching and mourning like a Baptist preacher, and
they demanded his removal from the circuit.

It was a cold Saturday morning when, under the
direction of Mr. Henry Johnson, I set out for Shiloh, which
was nine miles southwest of Overton. Cold? Why,
it was so cold that we once thought we would surely
freeze or be badly frostbitten. But finally we reached
Brother Richmond Lee's and went in to a good
old-fashioned fire to thaw and warm our benumbed feet and
hands. There was a lively prattle of children which
enlivened the newcomer. Indeed, there could be no
schism in Shiloh if this merry household was to be
taken as an index to the state of the Church and
community. But that merry crowd did not reflect the true
state of things. The devil was reported as being
thereabout, and it was found to be true.

Conference assembled about two o'clock in the afternoon.
It was a fine-looking set of men, among whom
were Lewis Robertson, Ben Robertson, R. Lee, Jack
Cole, and others. We soon learned that there was a
division among the brethren. I confined my inquiries
to the main questions of the Discipline. Finishing these,
I was ready to listen to all things the brethren had to
say touching the pastor's removal. I soon discovered
that the whole trouble was the result of Elder Taylor's
interfering with the affairs of the charge; so I
dismissed the case with a request that the brethren uphold
their preacher in charge. Nearly all seemed willing to
do this. When I signed the journal, I took pains to
state that the cause of the trouble was attributed mainly
to Elder Taylor's leaving the Pittsburg District to
interfere at Shiloh with Rev. Lloyd's business. When Elder
Taylor visited his family in Overton, he would also
visit R. Lee, near Shiloh. “How do they all like the new
elder?” he inquired. “O, just the best in the world,”
answered Mr. Lee. “He certainly knows his business.
Here is our journal,” handing the book to Elder Taylor.
“You may see our proceedings.” He then left
the room and went his way, leaving the elder to review
the work of Saturday's Conference. He soon ran upon
a reference to himself, and his interest became intensified.
Having read the proceedings, he went to Mr. Lee
and wanted further information about his alleged
connection with the Lloyd troubles and why his name was
spread upon the minutes. Brother Lee could only cite
him to the journal, not really knowing that his name
was written therein. The elder thought himself
injured and unjustly treated, and consequently resolved
to—. Accordingly he assembled a committee
consisting of M. Butler, Elias Powell, and P. J. Jones to
investigate the case at Shiloh. These souls met as
though their actions would be of no force further than
the sending of a report of their findings to the bishop.
It was the most futile mock trial in the annals of
Church history. Here was an elder from one district
calling together the ministers of another elder's district
for the purpose of trying him, which was not lawful.
The worst of this mock trial was my silence. I
was presiding elder of the Tyler District, and of course I
paid no attention to their ignorant and malicious work.
But when I met Elder Butler, preacher in charge of
the Mt. Zion Circuit, I inquired of him whether the
report of the trial was true in any particular. He
assured me that it was. I then asked him for the law
for any such high-handed procedure. “O well, we had
law for it,” he said. I assured him that I would not
believe that he deliberately intended to do me a wrong;
that the public generally thought he had been used
by Elder Taylor because Taylor wished to give color to
the trial in this way. I further told him that I would
not believe him in a conspiracy with Elder Taylor,
unless he persisted in affirming their course as lawful.
This he did, notwithstanding that the brethren sought
to convince him of his erroneous ideas. I was about to
call his Conference to order, though he had helped to
suspend me and said that I should not hold it. He
commenced early with the hope that I would be late
getting in and thus afford him a reason for calling the
Conference to order; but he was disappointed, for I was on
time. He refused to participate in the business of the
Conference, though it went on and all business was
finished. I was sorry for Elder Butler when five hundred
people met the next day and condemned his course.
That was the first visit I had paid to Mt. Zion.

I preached on Sunday. My text was from Matthew,
about “hell and the wicked.” As I commenced my
sermon the clouds began to rain in gentle showers; and as I
waxed warm in the sermon the clouds increased their
downpour. I shall never forget old Sister —. She
drank to overflowing before breaking forth, and never
in my life had I been so nearly overcome by the shouts
of an overflowing heart. The old lady seemed to have
been resisting the power which swept her adrift. Seeing
it beyond her power to withstand, she burst forth
in a shout that electrified the vast audience. I stopped
preaching and went for my handkerchief, for my eyes
were wet. Her daughters and some neighbors went to
assist her in stemming the tide, but, finding it useless,
led her out of the church through the falling rain; but
her voice sounded and resounded above the voices of
many waters. Elder Butler sat in tears near the pulpit,
but refused to take communion with us. Every one
regretted this, but there was no help for it. That was the
last divine service and the last communion he would
witness in the world; yet he refused. He rode home
through the rain, went to bed sick, continued so for two
or three weeks, and then died and was gathered unto
his long home. I trust that he repented and was saved;
but if he was lost, his blood will be upon Elder Taylor
for deceiving him.

Henderson Station was the next place that I visited.
It was there that I had joined the East Texas Conference
five years since. It was there also that I was
ordained, and to-day Henderson claims me as its own.
This fact more than all others induced large crowds to
assemble to hear the young elder. Rev. Elias Powell
was their pastor, but he did not fill the desires of the
people as a preacher. Still there were no wild clamors
for his removal. He was a good man, and this fact
assisted the public in measuring the real worth of the
minister. A man must be more than a good preacher
if he would commend himself and his work. Above
all, he must be a good man. Yea, all men ought to be
true and good; but the preacher must be a good man
indeed. What else can he afford to be? True as this
should be, yet it is far from being true of all the preachers;
and the Church of Christ has suffered no little
from this cause.

I found it necessary to confine Brother Powell to the
Beaver Springs Church and attach Henderson to the
Overton Station and assign Rev. Moses Robertson to
both towns as pastor. The work then took on new life
and many souls were brought to Christ. Among the
leading spirits of the Henderson Church were Brothers
Henry Bowden, Rolly Lee, Henry Hicks, Johnson,
and Harris. All have found that rest which remains
for the people of God. Brother Bowden died suddenly.
Everybody was much shocked at his death because he
was such a noted Christian. I shall always remember
the funeral occasion of this zealous man, and also that
of Mr. Hooks Flanagan. I was called to go one hundred
miles to preach the funerals of these men. It
was arranged to have me preach them both at the same
time and place. There were no doubts in the public
mind as to Uncle Bowden's peaceful rest, for his walk
was the walk of a Christian. But the same was not true
of Uncle H. Flanagan, whose life was one of sinning
against God; and in this, so far as it was known, he
continued until the day of his death. It was claimed
that he repented; yet there were grave doubts in the
mind of the public, and I was of the same opinion. But
I was assured by his friends that be died in the faith,
hence I attempted to class him with the sainted
Bowden as having gone to the better world. Never in my
ministerial career did I attempt such a difficult task.
I simply broke down; and when I dismissed, I could
scarcely reach my stopping place. The doctor was
called in to see me and said that I needed rest. I learned
a lesson from those two men which will be of service to
me as long as I live. To preach a sinner to heaven is
an impossibility and a very unpleasant task to attempt.
One of the weaknesses of the human race is to seek every
excuse to hide the faults of a deceased member. It
matters not how wretchedly he has lived, his friends will
do or say almost anything to palliate and to make it
appear that rest and peace are his portion. I hold that
this is wrong and has an evil tendency, because it is
misleading in its teaching and in its effect upon the
living. The doctrine which teaches that if we would rest
in a peaceful repose in death we must live godly in this
present world is a true and safe doctrine. Preachers
ought to be careful and never allow themselves to be
persuaded to depart from the truth. Who shall abide
in the mountain of the Lord? “He that speaketh the
truth in his heart, and lieth not with his tongue.”

Having closed the Conference and administered the
Lord's Supper at Henderson, I went on my way and
stopped at Overton, where a grand service was held at
the church. Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Wilson, and a host of
others were in full faith and rejoiced in the hope of a
coming Saviour. There were some really nice people
around Overton, but of the majority the reverse was
true. Our friend and brother, A. McDaniel, was a
great man and a good teacher. Uncle Essech Johnson
loved the Lord with all of his heart, and has been called
to his reward. The Rev. Moses Robertson was the new
preacher in charge, and made a good impression as a
young orator.

I remember with pleasure the first quarterly meeting
I held at Kilgore, where I met Scott Baxter, Benjamin
Hilburn, John Hilburn, Alex Reed, Crawford James,
Cash Thompson, and others. And O what a time we had!
That section of the country was full of Baptists and
there were a good many Campbellites. Rev. John Baptist
was pastor of the Baptist Church, and on one occasion
he ran into the Methodist doctrine. Father Henry
Jackson did not answer him, and this fact emboldened
the Baptist and was irritating to the few Methodists.
On my second visit to that place I had Rev. Moses Roberson
along with me, who preached on Monday a powerful
sermon from the text: “He that soweth to his flesh
shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to
the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.”
(Gal. vi. 8.) When the Rev. Roberson took his seat,
there were but few in that vast audience who were not
in tears. I shed tears myself. The preacher walked
around alone just prior to the services, and, returning,
he expressed to me his inability to fill the demand of the
hour. I encouraged him all I could, and in the meantime
directed him as touching his trend of argument in
the discourse. God gave the Spirit in abundance, and
the preacher soon forgot all doubts and just simply
swept all before him. Upon adjournment it was announced
that I would preach on “Baptism” at 8 P.M.
The announcement created a sensation. The deacon of
the Baptist Church sent a courier eight miles after Rev.
Jesse Roe, the Baptist preacher. I knew nothing of
this until I was through lecturing, for it was not to be
called preaching. I took up the subject and had
respect to its importance, design, and mode. I showed its
importance by setting forth the fact of its being the
door by which persons entered the Church of Christ.
I showed the design by setting forth the fact that
it was a distinguishing mark by which the world
was reminded that we had put off the old man Adam
and put on the new man Christ Jesus. I then took up
its mode. I did not attempt to prove that any special
mode was essential to salvation. I tried to show that
the claims of the Baptists and Campbellites that there
was but one mode, and that mode immersion, were fraudulent.
I gave the three modes now in use and showed
that the most decent mode was pouring or sprinkling.
I made immersion indecent and distasteful by picturing
to the audience the sight of a muddy woman coming up
out of a mudhole. When I was through with this picture,
the Baptists arose and retired. The Rev. Jesse
Roe had never heard the historical facts presented on
this subject before, and refused to dispute them, though
his members seemed to be very much disgruntled. They
asked him repeatedly concerning the facts which I
established, but he simply said: “I don't know but that
they are true.” It was a happy occasion for the Methodists,
by which their membership was greatly increased.
I was a ready fighter in those days, and challenged the
Baptist ministers to meet me in a public debate. After
spending five days with them, I left for Athens; but
before leaving I had the assurance of the Methodists that
I had rendered them a great service, for which they were
truly grateful.

I dreaded the forty-mile ride from Tyler to Athens;
but as duty called me to go, I found no excuse for
disobeying the voice. Feeling myself well mounted, I started
all alone; and of all the rides I had ever experienced,
that was the most lonely. I would ride from ten to
twelve miles without passing a single house or without
getting a drink of water. The sun seemed determined
to set with me still on the road, with nothing to amuse
me but wild deer and turkeys, which continually crossed
the road. But before the sun was entirely down Athens
burst upon my sight. This, indeed, was quite cheering
to me. Riding up to a gentleman's house, I inquired
if I had at last reached Athens. After being assured
that I had, I dismounted and told Mr. Luke Boyd that
I was Elder Jamison. Hence the good Mr. Boyd carried
me to Aunt Haywood's and informed her that I was
the expectation of many. I was kindly provided for
thereafter.

For the first time I had struck a town where some
of the best members had deserted us and joined the
African Methodist Episcopal Church; though I could not
complain, for everything whispered “Welcome.” I met
something like a Quarterly Conference, but there were
great divisions among the brethren. I was expected to
perform the task as pastor in the trial of members
against whom complaints were made. I tried to shift
this duty to its rightful owner; but the preacher, Rev.
George Hugh, was but a substitute and thought it best
to refer all troubles to me. I did the best I could
on Friday and Saturday nights. This advertisement
brought a large crowd together for services on Sunday.
I preached mightily to that people; and on Monday I
was afflicted with the nettlerash, which tormented me no
little for four days.

The most remarkable visit that I had made to Athens
was in June, 1885, when was held the funeral of
Mrs. Julia Boyd. Dr. Collins was the most celebrated
free-thinking infidel in that part of the State. He and
I had upon several occasions discussed the inspiration
and teachings of the Bible. Of course he had all the
advantage of a fine education; but I had Jesus and the
apostles, so I pitted these against him. He would ask
all the questions, and would dodge whenever I put any
to him. I was not counting upon having to preach to
him on this noted occasion; but I was surprised when
I saw him, with his chair in his hand, en route to church.
I found on reaching the church that he was crowded
out. “This won't do,” thought I, so I had all the seats
carried out into a beautiful grove near by. The Doctor
seated himself within fifteen feet of the stand. “All
right,” thought I to myself; “you'll have to listen
today. And while I ought to preach for the vast crowd
who agree with me respecting future reward and punishment
and not waste time with you, still I must teach
you the truth.” I selected Corinthians xv. 3, 20. I set
out to establish the truth of the resurrection of Jesus
Christ from the dead. I had little or no difficulty in
proving the death of Christ, and that, too, by witnesses
favorable to the Doctor's views. But to establish his
blessed resurrection to the satisfaction of the Doctor
required much reasoning. I assumed that the best
evidence should be put on the witness stand. I laid greatest
stress upon the nineteenth verse, and agreed with St.
Paul that if in this life only we have hope in Christ,
we are of all men most miserable. Viewing the subject
in all of its importance, I nerved myself and set up the
scriptural proof as the best, and assured those present
that it was vain and useless to rely upon anything but
the Scripture. I called up the women who testified that
Christ did rise from the dead. Next I put up the
twelve apostles, and with one voice they said: “He
rose.” Then I called on the guards, the watchmen, and
they too said: “He rose.” Also the five hundred witnesses,
who also testified that they had seen him alive
since his death. St. Paul was my strongest witness,
because he had been on the Doctor's side. I assumed that
the greatest weight would be given to eyewitnesses in
any court of justice; so inasmuch as all of my witnesses
were eyewitnesses, their testimony was of the highest
value. I told the audience that the infidels had been
eighteen hundred years hunting for an eyewitness, but
had failed thus far to produce a single one. They
relied upon witnesses who lived from five hundred to
fifteen hundred years after the resurrection, hence no sane
mind could rest its salvation upon their evidence. During
all this time—three-quarters of an hour—I faced
the Doctor and the two dozen or more persons sitting
with him, leaving the vast crowd to my back; but now
I faced about and spoke to the crowd. O, I was so full
and so delighted at my success in establishing the
resurrection! I told the audience to take fresh courage;
that the victory was theirs. I was telling them of the
crowd of living witnesses around me when there went up
a great shout from the audience. Tears were shed on
all sides. The old Doctor himself shed tears freely. I
dismissed the meeting, and the Doctor went home; and
when I reached my stopping place, it was reported that
the Doctor was coming. He came right into my room
and said: “Gold and silver have I none, but I have
brought you some of my fine fruit.” I assured him of
my appreciation. He said further that he had not
heard a colored man preach before in thirty-five years,
and that he would rather have lost fifty dollars than to
have missed that sermon. I hoped that God would save
him.

CHAPTER XII.

Annual Conference of 1878—Reappointed Presiding Elder
of the Tyler District—Move the Christian Advocate
Plant to Tyler and Turn It Over into the Hands of the
Texas Conference for Publication—Visit the Louisiana
Conference in the Interest of the Advocate—Spending
Christmas in the Country—The Blue Spring Camp Meeting.

THE Conference of 1878 convened at Crockett, Bishop
Lane presiding. I cannot say much for that session
of the East Texas Conference, because it was noted
for doing more harm than good. I was returned to
the Tyler District as presiding elder for 1879. The
Christian Advocate was now to make its usual visitations,
with me as its editor. I was convinced that all it
needed to give it a large circulation was a live editor,
and that I resolved to be. I moved the whole concern
to Tyler, with Rev. J. B. McNeely as partner. I thought
we would soon be on the high road to success.

The Christian Index also had at this time a live man
at its head as publisher in the person of Bishop W. H.
Miles, and a live man as its editor in the person of Dr.
C. W. Fitzhugh. The two papers now entered the field
with the blast of Joshua's sounding trumpet, which
filled the air around with signal victory. If these two
papers could have remained in the same hands until
to-day, the cause of Christ and of the people would have
been greatly advanced; but a change was made which has
never done the Index any good. It was turned over to
the General Conference in 1882 by Bishop Miles. The
Advocate was turned over to the Texas Conference by
me. The Texans allowed it to die for want of interest, etc.

The year 1878 was a splendid year throughout the
entire Church. Many souls found precious deliverance
from sin and Satan through faith in the Son of God.
The Revs. Hollingsworth, Hagler, Lowe, Roberts, Whiten,
and Mimms set the district ablaze with their spiritual
zeal and hallowed fire. The greater portion of the
Marshall District was added to the Tyler District, thus
giving me nine counties over which to travel. Longridge
Circuit was composed of Center Academy, Longridge,
Sunny Point, and Shady Grove. It was on this
circuit that a great work was accomplished through good
old Brother Daniel Mimms, Robert Roberts, E. E. Bowens,
Walker Garrett, Thomas Price, M. Bell, York Goff,
K. Hardy, King Smith, and Hilburn. They were true
officers and men of rare abilities. It was on this circuit
that Elder Mimms had licensed me to preach seven
years previous to this. The Annual Conference met at
Pittsburg that fall, with the good Bishop Lane presiding.
This was a very good and profitable session, all
things being considered. Rev. Grundy played an important
part in making this Conference quite interesting.
Some very nice families are to be found in and around
Pittsburg. The Rev. P. J. Jones resides here. I saw
in Pittsburg something that I have never seen in any
other town in Texas. It was a white man with a colored wife.

The Louisiana Conference convened at Minden in
1879. I considered it an inviting field for the Advocate,
hence I determined to visit them. I accordingly went

ROSCOE C. JAMISON.

home and arranged my affairs, and was in Shreveport
the following day. The trip was to be made by stagecoach
—a forty-mile drive. The roads were in a wretched
condition, but four good horses were equal to the task.
Poor horses! There was no mercy on them, and it was
not long before the whistle was blowing for the beautiful
little town of Minden.

Bishop Beebe was the idol of this Conference, which
delighted to do him honor. That was pleasing to the
newcomer, whom Bishop Beebe introduced to his brethren
as “Fighting Joe,” the Advocate man. It was a
warm welcome that the Conference tendered “Uncle Joe.”

This Conference seemed to excel the Texas Conferences
in many respects. All was peace and good will.
Thomas Powell, Bullock, Amos, Shepherd, Sherman, and
Walton were strong men in the Louisiana Conference.
Bishop Beebe seemed more at home in this Conference
than in any other over which I had seen him preside.
I addressed the Conference in behalf of the Advocate,
and in less than thirty minutes raised sixty-five dollars.
The people said that “Uncle Joe” came up to their standard
as an editor, hence I was able to secure quite a
large subscription for the Advocate. I returned home
highly pleased with my visit to Louisiana.

Spending Christmas in the country, at the home of
Dr. Waskom, I went hunting every day or two.

In January, 1880, I started on my first round of
quarterly meetings on the Tyler District.

The most noted event of 1879, perhaps, was the Blue
Spring Camp Meeting, held by Rev. H. P. Hollingsworth,
near Chapel Hill. I was a curiosity in that part
of the country. Thousands attended the meetings night
and day. W. R. Grundy, O. T. Womack, Robert E. Hagler,
and J. R. Wages did the preaching, and it was good
preaching indeed. I sang all the good songs I knew.
I made “Jerusalem City” ring for miles around. Sister
Warren seemed to have taken greatest delight in my
singing. The stand erected for the ministers was about
two and a half feet high. Womack rose to preach one
day and announced as his opening hymn, “That awful
day will surely come, the appointed hour make haste.”
I led off by singing “Amazing grace, how sweet the
sound!” On coming to the words, “That saved a wretch
like me,” I slowed up a little, expecting the audience to
join in; but everybody seemed to be smiling or laughing
outright. “What's the trouble?” I asked. Womack
said: “Brother, you are singing the wrong hymn.” Just
about that time Jesse Warren laughed aloud, which set
them all to laughing. I then saw the mistake and
laughed until I was simply forced to take my seat. That
meeting resulted in the conversion of about fifty souls.

The meeting having closed, I resumed by work with
the Advocate. It had paid its own way during the year
1880. This was owing to the interesting controversy
between it and the Index. C. W. Fitzhugh was a
brilliant writer, and wrote for the fun of the thing.
Indeed, he had but few equals. But he did a thing which
sent him downward, never to rise again—that is, jumped
from Church to Church, office-seeking. The last leap he
made placed him where nothing can now be heard of
him. The disposition of Rev. J. A. Ving reminds one
very much of that of Fitzhugh. He was first an A. M. E.,
then a Presbyterian, then a C. M. E., and now he is
again an A. M. E., but received no appointment for 1889.
Alford Alston was also once a very popular minister of
the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church in Texas. He
was honored with high positions in the Church, but he
finally yielded to the persuasion of the presiding elder
of the Methodist Episcopal Church and went over to that
Church. Poor Alston! That ruined him in the estimation
of his acquaintances, white and colored. In fact,
he could do no more good in this part of the country,
hence to prevent starvation he moved to Arkansas. The
same might be said of Zedrick Taylor and others.

I mention the fate of these men for the purpose of
admonishing others against similar mistakes. Everybody
is a little suspicious of a minister who changes from
Church to Church. They think that there is something
wrong with him, and with very few exceptions this is
true to the letter.

Our membership at Marshall was small and poor.
They were greatly in need of a suitable church edifice.
With O. T. Womack as pastor, they resolved to build a
house to the glory of God. The women were our mainstay.
They canvassed the town until they succeeded in
having all the lumber put on the ground except the roofing,
which Womack and I took as our job. The good
work was pushed on to completion, after which Revs.
Womack and Grundy held a series of meetings which
proved quite successful. Womack said that Grundy
preached the sermon suitable for the occasion, using
these words as a text: “Come thou, and all thine house,
into the ark.” He preached until the house was filled
with the Holy Spirit. Grundy was not a scholar, but a
man of great power with Christ. I like to remember
Grundy, for we spent some of the most pleasant hours of
our ministerial life together. The first time we met in
competition was at Starville on the occasion of the
funeral of Miss A. Pinkston, a teacher and one of Smith
County's purest women. “Joe,” said he, “you had better
take the lead to-day.” “Just as you say,” I
answered. “Well, no. As everybody has come to hear
you, you had better close the sermon,” he said. “I'll go
ahead and clear the way for you.” “All right,” I said.
So he went in and opened the services, using as his text
the words: “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord
from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may
rest from their labors; and their works do follow them.”
(Rev. xiv. 13.) Rev. Grundy spent fully forty minutes
upon the life and labors of the deceased, contrasting
her with many who fell far short of her in goodness,
etc. He laid great stress upon good, virtuous women,
and endeavored to encourage the young women to
strive to emulate the good traits found in the character
of the deceased. He said he heard a voice from
heaven saying that it was well with Sister Pinkston.
With this assurance he forgot himself and took flight,
and the remainder of his sermon was of such a character
that it seemed to lift his hearers to such a high pitch of
joy that they were all shouting when he took his seat.

My turn came next, but I could add nothing, for
Grundy had set the mountains all resounding with
hallelujahs that filled the fields around. No one enjoyed it
more than I. From that day the star of Rev. Grundy
rose and eclipsed all others in the Eastern Texas Conference.

Not long afterwards we joined Rev. D. Mimms in a
meeting held by him at Shady Grove. Rev. A. Taylor, a
Baptist minister, accompanied us. When we arrived at
the church, we found that services had begun. George
Roberts, a local Baptist preacher, was preaching. The
brethren came out and requested me to do some of my
best preaching. “For we are on a rock,” they said, “and
it requires hard preaching here to get us off.” Grundy
said laughingly: “Put me up. I'll set 'em up. Won't I,
Joe?” “Yes, you will,” I assented. But the brethren
knew nothing of Grundy's ability as a preacher, and to
them it was no time for experimenting; and, besides, they
thought he was joking. Grundy, adjusting his tooth and
snuff brush most vigorously, would roll his big white
eyes at them in a regular backwoods manner which was
very amusing. Finally the evening services were begun.
Elder Mimms put Grundy up to preach. His text was:
“There is more joy in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth than over ninety and nine just persons which
need no repentance.” (Luke xv. 7.) He assured his
hearers that there were none who needed no repentance,
and proved it by the Scriptures. The ninety and nine,
he said, were the Pharisees and the scribes who claimed
to be the children of Abraham and heirs of the promise.
These, he said, considered themselves righteous, fasted
twice a week, gave alms to the poor, and needed no
repentance nor Saviour. The preacher saw the world in
a sad condition when ninety and nine out of a hundred
were so given to Judaism as to disown their only Saviour.
The Pharisees thought and counted themselves
the most just and righteous of all people, but they
misjudged our Lord and their need of his salvation. He
sought in many ways to convince them of their deplorable
condition. The one sinner that repented, the preacher
said, represented the Gentiles; and the ninety and
nine just persons represented the Jews and especially
the Pharisees. He touched the woman's tenth piece of
silver and the younger son, but affirmed that the three
were to be understood as a figure of the wretched state
of the human heart and the readiness of Christ to
alleviate its suffering. He grew very eloquent when he
related the joy in heaven over the repenting sinners, and
illustrated this joy by relating an account of three little
children—two boys and a girl—whose parents sent them
to a school three miles away. On their return homeward
the little girl turned aside to gather flowers, while
the boys went on home. The girl was soon lost. The
mother waited until nearly sunset for her child to come,
but in vain. This frightened her, and she made alarm
with her cries, which brought the father from the field.
They went in search of little Jane, but found her not. It
was night when they returned, and without their little
daughter, which so shocked the mother that she was
crazed with grief. She threw herself upon the bed as
if to die were better than to live. The father gathered
his neighbors together during the night and arranged
to make a clear search of the woods for miles around.
They organized themselves into squads, each squad taking
a horn; and whichever found little Jane was to
give three sharp blows as a signal. Morning dawned,
and they departed in every direction. But to the mother
it all seemed futile, for she had seen in a dream a
wild beast devouring little Jane; so she cried the more
bitterly. But ere another setting of the sun, late in the
day, a man espied little Jane. He called her, but
instead of answering she fled from him. He overtook
her, and then, giving three loud, sharp blasts with the
horn, the squads came running together; and such joy
no tongue can express. It was nearly dark when they
reached the home. And O what a scene! Mother shouted
first, then she wept much. In the meantime all were
blowing their horns. People came from afar to make
merry over little Jane. This was characteristic of the
joy over one repenting sinner.

There was not a dry eye in that all vast audience.
The meeting now took on new life. Miss Bettie Williams,
now the wife of Rev. H. T. Lee, was saved.
Grundy promised to “set 'em up,” and he kept his word.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Annual Conference of 1880—Defending Rev. Mr. Lowe
—Visiting the Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama
Conferences in the Interest of the Christian Index and the
Christian Advocate—Spending Christmas in Dallas.

THE Annual Conference of 1880 convened in the new
church at Marshall, with Bishop Miles presiding. This
was his second visit to Texas. The Bishop paid a high
tribute to the ability of the editor of the Christian
Advocate, all of which I appreciated with due modesty.
The Bishop was then publisher of the Christian Index.
He entered into an agreement with me by which the two
papers combined could be taken for one dollar and fifty
cents per year.

That was a warm Conference but a cold winter. Snow
lay on the ground six inches deep for a week. It was
during this session of the East Texas Conference that the
case against Rev. S. L. Lowe was dismissed by Bishop
Miles, which strongly established the Bishop in the minds
of the brethren as being a man who clings to the law.
At the previous session, in 1879, Lowe fell under some
slanderous rumors. After investigating the case, the
people thought a trial necessary. Consequently the bishop
who presided over that Conference (1879) called the
case and appointed a committee to try it. They
assembled, the bishop himself presiding. They had not
gone far with the case before they found that they had
not sufficient evidence to convict. To acquit was the
proper thing to do, of course; but the bishop appointed
another committee to get more evidence, after which they
adjourned. The new committee met and suspended
Lowe until the next Conference. As counsel for Lowe
I insisted that it was doing him an injustice, because
all law required that when a case was given to a
committee the committee was bound to render a verdict, and
could not say that it had not sufficient evidence without
acquitting. But the bishop thought differently. I paid
no attention to the new investigating committee.
Fortunately for Lowe, a new bishop heard the report of that
committee. He listened to arguments pro and con, and
then dismissed the whole affair. That decision opened
the eyes of my brethren. The first bishop was not an
expert in law; hence a minister was really unfortunate
to have a case in his court, for he generally presumed a
defendant guilty.

This Conference was largely attended. Among the
visitors was Rev. S. Townsell, of the West Texas
Conference. The Marshallites tried themselves in providing
for the ministers and visitors. Matt Roberts was as
jolly as a cricket. He surpassed them all in smiling and
chatting. We all loved Matt Roberts.

To Bishop Miles this did not look to be the town
and people he met in 1872. Members of the Methodist
Episcopal Church had more religious sense now
than they had then; hence it was now a crowded house,
filled with amens, that greeted Bishop Miles.

Having agreed with Bishop Miles to visit the
Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama Conferences in the
interest of the Christian Index and Christian Advocate,
at the close of the East Texas Conference I arranged
matters at Marshall and left for the Tennessee Conference,
which was in session at Brownsville. Leaving
Marshall at 4 A.M., I took breakfast at Texarkana,
passed through Little Rock at about 1:40 P.M., but
cannot remember exactly when I passed through Memphis,
though I reached Brownsville in time to be assigned to
my quarters before services were dismissed.

I was pained to see Bishop Miles board the fast train
for Louisville, off of which I had just gotten. “Joe,
I am ahead of you,” he said. “However, they are
expecting you, and I guess you will get a good subscription
for the Advocate.” He was correct in this, for I
received a large subscription. All the bishops were
there, or had been, save Bishop Beebe.

This Conference was composed of as fine-looking
Negro preachers as were to be found in the Union. The
Daniels, the Mitchells, Lee, Payne, Smiths, Davis,
Powell, Cottrell, Mosley, and a host of others were all
good men and good preachers. Rev. Rollie led the singing;
and it was done well, too, if it was mixed a little
with ancient selections.

I visited Jackson, the birthplace of the Colored Methodist
Church. I met here a fine and intelligent set of
people and a host of preachers. I was the guest of Mr.
and Mrs. J. C. Watson while at Jackson. A more
accomplished family was not to be found anywhere. I
preached in the morning at the East Jackson Station
to an attentive audience, though it was small. It was
at this service that I met Mrs. Bishop Lane. In
appearance she was a perfect picture of health, a
fine-looking and a most accomplished lady. At 8 P.M. I
preached at Liberty Street to an overflowing house. It
was a great trial to preach to that vast audience of
intelligent people. But I wore off the fears by putting in
the preacher's usual excuse. I spoke to them concerning
the priestly prayer of Jesus. There were some in
that audience who were good judges, and these were
well pleased. When I had gone out of Tennessee, upon
reflection I said: “Well, they shout in Tennessee too.”
I saw that the gospel of Christ produced the same effect
the world over, or at least as far as I had gone; and I
think this is a strong proof that it is of God and not of
man. A system which, when declared by the chosen
ministers of Christ, affects the world as does the preaching
of the gospel seems to me to be the best evidence of
its divine origin. What think you of it, reader? I am
sure you will say that this is true.

The white people of Tennessee were opposed to allowing
colored people to ride in first-class cars—much more
so than they are in Texas. But I did not care. Soliciting
subscriptions was what I was after, and not pleasure;
for if I had gone pleasure-seeking, I would not
have been guilty of selecting Tennessee. I would have
gone to Ohio, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and
to those States which were free from malice toward
colored people.

I returned to Memphis, where I joined Bishops Miles
and Holsey. Here I passed quite a pleasant time with
Rev. J. K. Daniels and his accomplished wife. I
preached for his good people at Collins Chapel. The
Spirit of the Lord came upon us, and we enjoyed a
profitable service. The Bishops and I called upon the
photographer and purchased the picture of Rev. J. H.
Ridley, a picture which I admire very much, though I had
not met Ridley at that time. We went to a panorama
at one of the white Baptist churches, where we saw
great wonders. We saw the four beasts, the angels, the
devil, death, hell, and the four and twenty elders as
seen by St. John. The Bishops were highly delighted
with the scenery. Indeed, it clung to Bishop Miles so
that by its aid he preached one of the most powerful
sermons I have ever heard.

We now took leave of Memphis for the Mississippi
Conference, which met at Como. That was a large
Conference of brethren. I. H. Anderson, Bobo, Hawk,
Smith, Moon, and others were prominent factors in
that Conference. It was a very large body, but they
had made a mistake in holding their annual session in
a country town such as Como was. Bishop Miles and
I were mere visitors. Bishop Holsey was the chief
executive in that Conference as in the Tennessee
Conference. We were given an opportunity to present the
claims of the Advocate and Index, and received quite a
good number of subscriptions.

We went up to Sardis, a small town just east of
Como, where we met a host of good-looking people. It
was at this place that Bishop Miles thought to establish
a school; but he made a blunder, and it caused him to
lose all of what he had paid. Though he was not to
blame, he missed only the true measurement while
measuring the brethren for liability. They disappointed
him. It was always a wonder to me how public men
could so disregard their obligations and think nothing
of a promise. It came to be so that no one could trust
a whole Conference of brethren; they would disappoint
one in spite of faith.

We returned to Memphis, changed cars, and went to
Courtland, Ala., where the Alabama Conference was in
session. Everything bade fair for a most delightful
time. It was eight years since I had been in Alabama;
and while I had never visited this portion of the State,
I nevertheless felt at home among the Alabama brethren.
Bishops Miles and Holsey were in a lively mood,
chatting and enjoying the greetings of the brethren. I
was not disappointed in receiving a small number of
subscriptions, for the country looked as if it had been a
hard task to get a living out of it. There had been a
great drought throughout North Alabama and North
Mississippi, which greatly augmented the scarcity of
money in those poor sections.

North Alabama is truly picturesque. Its mountain
chains spread themselves far and wide, presenting to
the stranger the grandest scenery in the South. I am
told that there are fortunes in iron, coal, copper, etc.,
in these mountains, and I suppose it is true. Still the
people there did not resemble any of fortune's favorites.

Everything passed off lovely. I was much pleased
with my visit; and having represented the papers, I
bade the Bishops and the Conference adieu.

It was at Courtland that I heard Bishop Miles preach
the greatest sermon of his life. That is saying a great
deal, but I don't believe it possible for him to excel
that sermon. His text was from Proverbs viii. 34, 35,
and 36. Snow lay nearly a foot deep upon the ground,
and this increased the beauty of the surrounding mountains.
This seemed to have assisted the Bishop in
delivering that wonderful sermon. He took the snow-covered
mountains as living witnesses of the great truths
which he so powerfully set forth on that occasion. I
was appointed to preach at night; and O how I trembled
at the thought of having to address an audience
which had just been carried to such lofty heights by
Bishop Miles! But I was the editor, hence I was
expected to justify the claims made for me. Notwithstanding
the snow that night, the white people's church
was filled with people of all colors and conditions.
Selecting D. L. Jackson to accompany me in the pulpit,
I preached from the text: “O wretched man that I am!
who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”
(Rom. vii. 24.) It was a cautiously delivered sermon
and rather dry, I thought; but Bishop Holsey expressed
himself as being highly pleased. Passing through the
streets the next day, I met a merchant who asked me
where I was educated. I answered: “Nowhere, sir.”
He did not believe me at first; but being assured, he
said that it was the best sermon he had heard in
North Alabama except one preached by the Bishop.
I was ashamed of him, and told him so; but he said
the sermon was free and full of explanation, that there
was no attempt to create a sensation, and, upon the
whole, the white portion of my hearers were wonderfully
delighted. The train arrived, and I was glad, too, for
he was worrying me. “Good-by, sir; I must get aboard
this train,” I said. Waving a smiling good-by to all, I
was soon out of sight, headed for the State of Texas.

I reached Memphis safely; but they had so sickened
me by pushing colored people into smoking cars after
purchasing first-class tickets that I longed to get once
more upon Texas soil. So I kept going until I got to
Little Rock, Ark.

While at the Alabama Conference I found the leading
colored men to be William B. Allison, R. T. Thirgood,
D. L. Jackson, G. I. Jackson, W. S. Battle, J. T.
Fitzpatrick, W. T. Thomas, H. Seay, and others. Of
these, W. B. Allison, R. T. Thirgood, Henry Seay, and
Jackson were among the founders of that Conference.

The members of the Alabama Conference gave “Uncle
Joe” and “Uncle Billy” every encouragement and a
large subscription for our papers. There were not many
lady visitors at this Conference, but those present were
of the beautiful Alabama type. Alabama is noted for its
beautiful women. There seems to be a competition
between Tennessee and Alabama in this particular; but
Alabama, so far as I have seen, rather excels Tennessee.
But Texas surpasses them all for pretty women,
hence I made haste to return to the affectionate
greetings that are dearest of all to me. “Marshall!” shouted
the porter, and I went forward to view the situation.

Mrs. M. A. Jamison had been promised a visit to
Dallas if she consented to remain at home without murmuring
while I was visiting the Conferences. So after
returning to Marshall and resting twenty-four hours, we
left to spend Christmas in Dallas. Willie, our only
child, was as merry as a lark. He was now a good-sized
lad, and was no trouble at this time. But when we
were assigned to the pastorate of the Dallas Church
he gave us no little trouble. He was a sweet, promising
chap; but being a baby, he disliked very much to be
annoyed by the train while sleeping. On reaching Dallas
he worried his mamma so that I took him, hoping that
he would soon fall asleep; but he cried so that I was
compelled to join him. Seeing us both in tears, and
hearing Willie's screams, wife now had the task of quieting
us both. Nothing can take the place of wife and mother.
These are the rarest gifts ever bequeathed to man.
Nothing of worth would this world be without wife and
without mother. Man is therefore under great obligations
to God for the rare gift of woman, and he can best
prove grateful for this gift by ever being kind and true
to wife and mother.

That was a merry Christmas, and Dallas had put on
her very best attire. The churches were richly decorated
with trees laden with precious gifts for many
thousands of children. The Evening Chapel Colored
Methodist Episcopal Church presented the finest and
most valuable tree of all the Dallas colored Churches.
Everybody greeted you with, “Christmas gift!”

Many brigades of boys paraded the streets, blowing
tin horns and shooting firecrackers; but a cold wave
swept over the prairies from the north which made it
difficult to keep one's self warm and comfortable even by
the best of firesides. Great was the suffering among the
poor. What had promised to be a merry time for all
lovers of Christmas had now changed to one of the most
extremely cold spells ever witnessed in the State of Texas.
Thousands had spent their last dollar purchasing
holiday gifts, and, worse still, there was a great scarcity
of fuel. Coal could not be had at any price. Wood sold
at ten dollars per cord. We made our visit short in Dallas,
and were glad to go to a more favored section, East
Texas. That Christmas taught many wholesome lessons
to the poor of Dallas and of other prairie towns.

For the first time during our married life we decided
to begin housekeeping. Marshall suited my wife, hence
we rented a house; and though not a very creditable one,
it was called home for four years.

CHAPTER XIV.

Political Issues of 1880—In the Camp Meetings—An
Amusing Incident in Time of Feast—Discourse with a
Campbellite on “What Must a Sinner Do to Be Saved?”

THE year 1880 is noted as a year of great excitement
in political affairs. The National Conventions of the
two great parties, not to mention the smaller ones, had
named their candidates for the presidency. Gen. James
A. Garfield was the Republican standard bearer, and
Gen. W. S. Hancock was the choice of the Democrats.
General Garfield was elected by a large majority. I
felt much relieved when I returned from Athens and
learned the result of the election. I was not afraid of the
return of slavery in case the Democrats had been
successful in electing General Hancock, but I foresaw a
sad picture as to how the negroes of the South would
be treated. I prayed for the election of Garfield as
earnestly as I prayed for the conversion of sinners, and
I do not know whether or not my prayers were answered;
but one thing I do know, and that is, he was
elected. The Republican party has not done all that
it might have done for the negroes, but it has done
wonderfully well by them.

The happiest events of 1880 were the camp meetings
held at Crockett by Rev. B. J. Houston and those near
Henderson by Rev. H. P. Hollingsworth. I put in good
service at both of these meetings, but was far from
being satisfied with the results of either. There should
have been about two hundred souls converted at these
meetings, whereas there were not more than seventy-five.
Hollingsworth, being acquainted with such affairs, had
things well arranged. Houston was inexperienced and
could not comprehend what was most needed; and yet
these were occasions of great joy and profit to the
Church. Fifty-five conversions for Hollingsworth and
twenty for Houston were the results of the meetings.

We closed the Henderson meeting and went to town,
where we were feasting on many rare treats. All of
this was changed to fasting when it was announced that
the sheriff had arrested Hollingsworth and was looking
for Elder McPhearson. “What have you been doing,
Elder?” inquired Grundy. “Why, he ran a horse race
with Hollingsworth,” answered a brother.

The train started for Overton. McPhearson gave me
his grip and said that he would meet us in Overton.
When we were one-half mile out of town, going upgrade,
he caught on. “Say, John, is Sheriff Brewer on
this train?” he asked. “Yes,” answered John. “Good.
Let me off! Take care! Let me off!” He jumped off
and ran, going south as fast as the train was going north.
The most amusing feature of it all is that no one was
after him. Well, that was the limit. McPhearson decided
that it was best not to run any more horse races,
since he had to take the most active part in the
running himself.

Grundy and I went on to Marshall, where we intended
to rest for a few days. Grundy was allowed that
privilege; but Rev. Matt Roberts had a man at
Longview with a horse waiting for me to go out to Post
Oak Chapel. I excused myself and went on to Marshall,
promising to return at ten o'clock the next day.
The man returned to Post Oak and reported my inability
to come before to-morrow. It came to pass that as
the train pulled into Longview the next day the man
was there with a horse. A twelve-mile ride placed us
in the midst of the vast crowd awaiting our arrival.
That section of the country was full of Campbellites,
who were clever enough but did not believe in the mourners'
bench. Large crowds of them would attend each
service, but they sneered at the mourners. Brother Roberts
had been unable to bring them to understand the
mourners' bench. When I arrived, he said that he felt
sure of success. I preached a “whole Jesus” and a free
salvation, and did not forget to present the mourners'
bench. I hit them right and left.

At the close of the morning service on the second day
the pastor, a Mr. Holt, came and took me aside, saying
that he desired to talk religion with me. This I thought
was proper, hence I gave myself up to him that he
might teach me the better way of salvation. The
conversation was as follows:

Holt: “I hardly know just where to start, but what
shall a sinner do to be saved?”

Jamison: “He must repent and believe the gospel.”

Holt: “You don't agree with St. Peter, then, do you?”

Jamison: “O yes; St. Peter and I agree on all
essential points, I think.”

Holt: “What is the first thing required of a sinner
in seeking salvation?”

Jamison: “First, hear; secondly, he must repent of
his sins; and, thirdly, he must come to Christ,
believing him to be his Saviour.”

Holt: “Will this alone justify the sinner from all his
sins?”

Jamison: “It will.”

Holt: “What use, then, do we make of baptism?”

Jamison: “Baptism is the door by which the man is
admitted into the fellowship of the Christian Church.”

Holt: “But St. Peter makes baptism a condition to
the sinner's salvation. He makes it the second thing
that the sinner must do to be saved.”

Jamison: “You mean that St. Peter laid down the
doctrine that the sinner must first be baptized before
he can be saved or before he can receive the Holy Ghost?”

Holt: “That is it exactly. See Acts ii. 28.”

Jamison: “Yes, I see; but while St. Peter teaches
here the necessity of baptism, he does not intend to
teach the doctrine that baptism must precede the gift
of the Holy Ghost. If he did, he was certainly
mistaken. See Acts x. 44-48.”

Holt: “I should like to hear you preach from Acts
ii. 28 this evening.”

Jamison: “I shall try to oblige you, my brother.”

Holt: “Where do you find the mourners' bench in
the Bible?”

Jamison: “Well, I don't know that I ever found the
bench; but I've found the mourner in several places,
and that is the basis upon which we are working. We
supposed that no one would object to the mourners
having a few benches by which to kneel. It surely can do
no harm.”

Holt: “But Christ did not call mourners, did he?”

Jamison: “Why, certainly he did. He charged his
disciples to preach the doctrine that men should
repent. Besides this, he pronounced a blessing upon them
that mourn, and that is the very reason I call for mourners
—that they may be blessed. Repenting is mourning,
weeping, and turning away from sins to God by faith in Jesus.”

Holt: “But does not Christ say in John ix. 36 that
God will not hear a sinner pray?”

Jamison: “No, no, indeed! Christ never uttered
such words in any of his teachings. The Jews said
this, but it was not true. How could the world of
sinners be saved if it is true that God will not hear a
sinner pray?”

Holt: “All that the sinner is required to do is to
believe that Jesus is the Son of God and be baptized.”

Jamison: “That accounts for the vast number of
sinners in your Church professing to be Christians who
know not Christ in the pardoning of their sins, and you
ministers are to blame for it.”

Holt: “We ministers of the Christian Church are satisfied
that St. Peter was clear and fully competent to
teach what is necessary to salvation, hence we abide by
his teachings; but you Methodists are not willing to
teach the doctrines which St. Peter taught.”

Jamison: “Yes, we are. Indeed, we fully agree with
St. Peter in all essentials. You see we take in all that
St. Peter taught, which is repentance, faith, justification,
adoption, and baptism; but you folks want to take
baptism and faith and no more. In short, you preach
so much of St. Peter's teachings as will suit your
doctrine of salvation by baptism, while salvation by works
is your ideal doctrine.”

Holt: “What saith Philip to the eunuch in Acts viii. 27?”

Jamison: “Well, I see that you have at least cited a
case that has not St. Peter as it author—a thing of rare
note, for you folks rarely ever cite anything but that
of which St. Peter is the author. But now let us see if
you are not in error respecting the teachings of Philip
to the eunuch. The eunuch was converted by the reading
of the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah. I say he was
a convert to the Christian's religion. He had read of
baptism, or Philip had said that it was necessary to
his becoming a member of the Christian Church. Coming
to that water seemed to afford the needed facilities,
but Philip must be assured that the eunuch had believed
in his heart that Jesus was the Son of God. Being
thus assured, Philip admitted him into the Church
by the proper door, which was baptism; and that's all.”

Holt: “And as soon as this was done the eunuch
received the Holy Spirit?”

Jamison: “Well, not in any special sense. But of
course the Spirit witnessed the act, which the eunuch
doubtless felt, as all men do when a duty is performed,
but nothing more. If we may judge from the Scriptures
(Acts ix. 39), it was Philip who received the
Spirit and not the eunuch.”

Holt: “Well, you seem to have the best of the argument;
but go in and preach and explain to the audience
all the scriptures that we have touched upon.”

Jamison: “I shall cheerfully do so.”

By this time the brethren had begun the service by
singing and praying. We went in, and I chose as a
text the third chapter of St. John. Going over many
passages of Scripture, I tried to explain their meaning
and the lessons to be drawn from them. I was careful
to set forth the mourners' bench—that which the Campbellites
disdained as man's invention. When I called
for seekers and mourners, the whole space was crowded,
the majority being Campbellite sinners. There was
great weeping at the mourners' bench, and many
received forgiveness for their sins and shouted aloud.

Twelve souls were added to the C. M. E. Church during
the three days that I remained. I have never met
Holt since, but I am sure that he is a wiser man.

There were some very hard citizens at Post Oak
Chapel. I remember bearing Rev. Moses Butler relate
some of his trials with that people. They opposed the
introduction of the Methodists in those parts. When
Elder Butler went there for that purpose, he rode a very
fine horse; and when he was up preaching one day,
some foul person cut his horse and saddle shamefully.
There are thousands of people professing Christianity
who are entire strangers to its principles. All they
know and love is their particular Church. They would
fight you if you spoke in a derogatory manner of their
Church; but you might say whatever you please against
Christ, and they would not become offended in the least.
There are blind partisans who have never enjoyed the
true spirit or religion of Christ. Christians should and
do retain within them a peculiar affection for each other,
and it matters not if they are of different denominations;
they are one in all things essential. But, unfortunately
for the Church, many worldly minded men who
have been driven out of politics are preaching their own
doctrine, which is contrary to the true doctrine of Christ
and his apostles. But all such will have their reward
in the world to come.

CHAPTER XV.

Elected Delegate to the General Conference of 1882—
Annual Conference Resumes Management of the Advocate
—Elected Editor of the Christian Advocate.

THE Annual Conference of 1881 convened at Bonham,
with Bishop W. H. Miles presiding. That was
the fourth year of my service as presiding elder on the
Tyler District. The chief thought among several of the
brethren was: “Who will succeed Elder Jamison?” I
thought that the long service of Revs. Grundy and Hagler
in the Conference would commend them to the Bishop,
but it did not. The Bishop had brought a man from
Mississippi, and he was decidedly the choice of the
Bishop. There was no grumbling, for they all knew that
Bishop Miles was free from prejudice and favoritism.
The question of electing delegates to the General
Conference which was to meet in Washington, D. C.,
May 3, 1882, was the all-absorbing topic. Who were the most
competent? All seemed to agree that they should be
men abreast with the times. Did the Conference possess
that kind of material? Well, not exactly; but it had
some deep-thinking men, and it was thought that these
would make very fair representatives. Hence after the
Conference had balloted for delegates, Revs. H. P.
Hollingsworth, R. Reed, and M. F. Jamison were declared
elected. I felt greatly honored, since I was to represent
so large a Conference as the East Texas Conference.

Elder Jamison now saw that his paper, the Christian
Advocate, would certainly fail for want of circulation
and also for want of a man to travel in its interest;
hence he asked the Conference to assign him to that
work. The Conference was willing; but the matter
belonged to the Bishop, and he was not willing to sanction
the wishes of the Conference. I then asked the Conference
to assume the control and management of the
Advocate. This they did, and elected me as editor.
The Bishop did that which really meant death to the
paper: he put me on a circuit.

I refused to rebel against the powers which were thus
exalted above me, and went to my circuit and preached
Christ as the sinner's friend. This was the Mt. Zion
Circuit, which embraced Mt. Zion, Mt. Comfort, Mt.
Pleasant, and Gourd Neck Churches. There were about
four hundred members on this circuit.

We had a great religious revival during the year
1882. Over one hundred were added to the Church.
I shall never forget the revival meeting at Mt. Zion,
which continued about nine days and nights. There
were sixty-five additions and fifty-five baptized by
affusion. Elder William Taylor, Revs. Matt Roberts,
James Rector, and George Hugh rendered valuable service
in the meeting. There was great shouting in the
camp, as if the walls of Jericho had fallen to the ground.

The people made good crops that year and paid all,
or nearly all, of the assessments; hence I was returned
to serve them another year. Eighteen years I had served
the Church in the capacity of a minister of the gospel—
six years as presiding elder and twelve years as pastor in
charge. During the twelve years as pastor I was never
returned to a charge which paid me in promises, except in
1875, when I was building the Evening Chapel Church.
I received scarcely anything that year.

CHAPTER XVI.

Off to Washington, D. C., to the General Conference—
Scenes and Incidents along the Line—Preached in Little
Rock, Memphis, and Louisville while on the Way to
Washington—Viewing the Spot Where Garfield Fell when
Shot by Charles Guiteau.

THE long-looked-for day to start to Washington had
at last come. The delegates, with one or two exceptions,
were short of means with which to go; but this was
provided for in some way, and on the 29th day of April we
took our leave of Texas. Starting from Marshall, I assumed
the leadership of the company, which consisted of
H. P. Hollingsworth, W. W. Lewis, Mrs. C. W. Poe,
O. T. Womack, F. M. McPhearson, and M. F. Jamison.
Indeed, this was a jolly little band. We took breakfast
at Texarkana, and then swept on to Little Rock, where
we spent the afternoon and part of the night. Rev.
H. Bullock was pastor in charge at Little Rock. He
had arranged for me to preach to his people, which I
cheerfully consented to do. Selecting Romans vi.,
“Justification by Faith and Peace with God through Our
Lord Jesus Christ” was my theme. Rev. O. T. Womack
pronounced it a complete establishment of that
doctrine and, as such, a fine sermon. Little Rock, having
heard of the famous “Fighting Joe,” now seemed
satisfied, for there were very pleasant greetings all
around. Little Rock is a beautiful city, and in the course
of years will be one of the finest cities in the South.

We passed through a very tough-looking country
between Little Rock and Memphis. I could not enjoy
life in those bottoms. We arrived in Memphis safely,
though the railroad was in an awful condition and the
Mississippi River almost out of its banks and sweeping
all before it. It was a sight to behold, especially to
“Uncle Joe,” who had never before been ferried across
water in cars. In times past they ferried wagons, but
now the train steamed right into the ferryboat, and
was carried across the river. This was grand.

We were soon at the M. and C. Depot, where the
delegates alighted and visited many places in the “City of
Yellow Fever.” We were notified of the untimely death
of that great and good man, J. H. Ridley, which created
much sadness throughout the Church. Memphis is
a great city of many markets, parks, and public places
of beauty, and would be a noble city but for the fact
of its filthy and sickly condition. It has many things
among colored people which make a stranger feel that
it stands above any city west of the waters. We visited
Collins Chapel, then the chief Colored Methodist
Episcopal Church of Tennessee. This Church is composed
of more than five hundred members, and its discipline
is a credit to them. Their manner of taking a
collection excelled anything that I have ever witnessed.
I preached for them upon one occasion, and was delighted
to see them collect thirty-five dollars without the
usual “jig” songs too common in our churches. When
I had finished preaching, many were shouting and shedding
tears; but the collection was taken without one
word from the stewards, who were seated within the
altar. They contributed liberally, while the singing
and shouting went right on. That of itself compensated
me for my visit there in 1880.

It being near train time, the delegates returned to
the depot, and were soon off for Louisville, Ky. There
were no more first-class accommodations for negroes on
trains, and our place was in the smoker, at least until
we reached Louisville. We took on more delegates at
Humboldt. At Milan Bishop Lane, E. W. Mosley, and
Elias Cottrell boarded the train, and we enjoyed quite
a lively trip to Louisville.

At a railway station where we stopped a very serious-looking
gentleman boarded the train. This gentleman
and “Uncle Joe” had a little conversation.

Joe: “Howdy do, sir?”

Stranger: “Howdy.”

Joe: “Very well, sir. How far are you going?”

Stranger: “O, not very far.”

Joe: “You are a preacher, are you not?”

Stranger: “Yes, sir.”

Joe: “Well, what do they pay you?”

Stranger: “Nothing much.”

Joe: “Why do you preach to them for nothing?”

Stranger: “I preach to save souls.”

Joe: “'Tis a good idea, but do you succeed in saving
any souls?”

Stranger: “O yes! I preach Christ to them, and they
believe; and Christ saves those that believe.”

Joe: “What does he do with the unbelievers?”

Stranger: “ ‘He that believeth not is damned.’ ”

Joe: “Exactly.”

Stranger: “Is this crowd of men ministers or some
kind of a troupe?”

Mosley: “Yes, sir. This is one of the finest troupes
in the South.”

RESIDENCE OF BISHOP JAMISON.

Joe: “This excels all of your preaching. Won't you
come and join us? We will pay you well.”

Stranger: “To what city are you now headed?”

Joe: “To Washington, D. C.”

Stranger: “What? To Washington, D. C.?”

Joe: “Yes, sir. We started last Wednesday.”

Stranger: “You are a fine-looking set of men, and
no doubt are making plenty of money; but it is not
convenient for me to join you.”

Mosley: “But why? You are not making a living at
preaching?”

Stranger: “No, not the best sort of a living; but my
labors will be rewarded hereafter.”

Mosley: “That's right, stranger. We are all ministers
of the gospel, and are going to the General Conference
in Washington.”

He would not believe that we were preachers. He
said: “Did I not hear you singing, ‘Run, nigger, run;
patrolers catch you?’ ”

“Yes, but what of that?” said Mosley.

The stranger shook his head so vigorously that we
readily understood him to mean that the song was fit
for members of a troupe only, and not for ministers of
the gospel. The conductor was asked if the crowd were
not ministers, and he assured the stranger that we
were ministers; but he got off wondering if it were true.

We soon reached Bowling Green, dined there, and
pushed on to Louisville. We passed through a rather
hilly country before reaching Louisville. Many of the
little towns showed signs of life and thrift, which are
very essential to people living in such poor lands; for to
live without them is to live half starved and half clad.

“Louisville! Louisville!” shouted the porter, and every
fellow went for his grip. The cars were soon emptied
of their human freight. Bishop W. H. Miles,
J. W. Bell, and many other brethren were in waiting that
all might be directed to homes for the night, as we
were to spend the next twelve hours in the city. After
all had been provided with homes, Rev. J. W. Bell
turned to me and said: “You will come with me, Brother
Jamison, as you have to preach to-night; also you
will abide at the home of Brother Bradley.” “I preach
to-night? Why, I've preached all the way from Texas,
and must be excused. I have nothing prepared to
preach.” “Well, everybody is expecting to hear ‘Fighting
Joe,’ and there is no getting out of it,” said Bell.
“Yes, but I have preached at Memphis and Little Rock
to please just such curiosity.”

I had to preach, but it was poor preaching. I
entered Center Street Church very much excited. There
were many of my companions present who would have
edified the audience far more than I was going to do.
Again, there was too much music, the city was too large,
and there was too much education, I fancied. All of
these combined, of course, made me tremble. But I
managed to tell them that the Son of Man had come to
seek and to save that which was lost. Revs. Hollingsworth
and Cottrell occupied seats within the sacred
altar. I began by saying that, whatever else our text
might contain, it contained one of the most awful terms
in use among men. That term was the word “lost.”
There is no word in the teachings of the Bible that
is more significant of destruction than the word “lost.”
That man without Christ is lost is an awful truth, and
that Christ came to seek and to save is a blessed truth.
The Jewish Church is frequently compared to a fold
and the Jews to wandering sheep. But we would fall
far short of the true meaning of the text were we to
confine this to the wandering Jews alone. We must
include the whole human family if we would comprehend
the full sense or import of the text. We attempted to
define in what sense Christ was the Son of God and to
define God himself, but the attempt was a miserable
failure. Still I rejoiced in the fact that it was true,
notwithstanding that I could not explain it. I dwelt
at length upon the beauty of how he saves the sinner,
but could not fully explain the manner of his doing
so. We all rejoiced and welcomed Christ in his mission
of love to the world. We might here learn an example
from the Christ of the text and seek to save the lost.
This we can do if we will by living and preaching
Christ and persuading the erring.

The congregation appeared to have enjoyed the sermon
and the occasion which brought us together. They
enjoyed seeing and hearing “Fighting Joe.”

There is no city in the South equal to Louisville. It
is clean, healthy, and a most wealthy town. Its colored
citizens own some very good property. It is the
home of Bishop Miles, the Senior Bishop of the Colored
Methodist Episcopal Church. Providence was very favorable
to our great and good Bishop in the selection
of a healthy city for his residence. Our friend Mr.
Bradley is also in possession of a really comfortable
home here; but they are hemmed in on all sides, thus
rendering their possessions almost valueless, which shows
also that large cities are undesirable and not the place
for poor people.

We went to the depot Monday morning, where we
boarded a special coach set apart to carry the delegates
to Washington without change. “All aboard!” shouted
the conductor, and we were again gone. This was the
third day, and it was to take us through the most beautiful
scenery in America. Traveling around the mountains,
through the mountains, and over the streams was
in store for the delegates, many of whom had never seen
the like. You get the finest view of Kentucky going
through the northern part of the State. Lexington is
my choice, while Frankfort and Mt. Sterling are both
beautiful cities. Lexington was all life and thrift. It
is the best and largest city in the State except Louisville.
We passed out of Kentucky and entered the
State of West Virginia, running through Huntington
and Charleston, the latter being noted as the place of
execution for John Brown, who attempted to free the
negroes by causing a riot. History records the sad
failure his efforts proved to be; but it hurried on the War
between the States, which finally brought on the
freedom he sought.

Huntington is quite a city. The shops of the Chesapeake
and Ohio Railroad are located at this place.
Many factories and mills make it one of the best towns
in West Virginia, though I should not like to live there,
as it is hedged in by giant mountains. The approach
to the city is up a valley, and the outlet is through the same.

Leaving Huntington, I fell in company with another
minister, a Baptist this time. Old Virginia and West
Virginia are noted for an overproduction of Baptists.
This gentleman, upon learning that we were delegates
to a Methodist General Conference, made haste to enter
into a controversy touching the doctrines of the Churches,
and took the ground that the Methodists and other
Churches were in error in regard to baptism and its
true mode. He advanced the idea of one Lord, one
faith, and one baptism, and charged the Methodists
with practicing three baptisms. I told him that he
misconstrued the sacred writing of the apostle; that
the apostle said one baptism, not one mode of baptism.
No man who is acquainted with the Scriptures will dare
say that they show only one mode of baptism practiced
by the Father. But I am sure that St. Paul had
reference to its rite and not its mode. He alluded to that
essential baptism of the Holy Spirit which cleanses the
hearts of men and women from all sin and pollution, a
baptism which comes out of heaven from God.

For the benefit of my readers I give herewith a part
of a sermon preached by the Rev. F. L. Leeper at the
union services of all denominations in the Cumberland
Presbyterian church at McMinnville at the close of the
Week of Prayer, clipped from the Christian Observer, of
Louisville, Ky. It is relative to the above subject.

“ONE LORD, ONE FAITH, ONE BAPTISM.”
(Eph. iv. 5.)
1. One Lord.

It may be said that while this text refers to St. Paul's
dealing with the late worshipers of Diana or Jupiter, in his
attempt to set aside the multiplicity of idol gods which
existed among the ancient heathens and to uproot their
many phases of religious creeds, and that while we may differ
in our religious views to-day, it also teaches the Fatherhood
of God, the one Lord who is above the heavens and on
whom alone hinges our entire salvation.

II. One Faith.

Here and now, amid all these apparent differences, it is
one faith. Does any man suppose that the faith of a
denomination is written and bound up in their creed? These
are statements of our conceptions of the doctrines of God's
Word, and are important in helping to a clear knowledge
of the Word, in furnishing each protest against what we
think error, in furnishing the outward bonds of union by
which we agree to walk together in our denominational
life, and the principles by which we are to be governed.
But faith, the faith of God's people, is a living part of
themselves that you can no more take out of them and put
into a book than you can take the living soul out of a man's
body and put it into a book. Would you know, would you
feel the touch of this faith of the Church? Then you must
read and study these living epistles written by the finger
of the ever-present Spirit of God, written to be known and
read of all men. The inner experience of God's people, the
lesson taught them directly by the Holy Ghost dwelling in
their hearts, is second only to the written Word in authority
in matters of faith and practice. Only it must be an experience
verified by the Word, an experience belonging to God's
people universally, and an experience bearing upon it the
fruits of godliness.

Now, sirs, let us go down into this inner experience
of God's people and listen to the voice of this living faith; and
no matter whether it finds its expression in the sobbing,
heart-yearning, penitent prayers of the people or in the
ringing triumphant songs of the Church, it comes forth
from the bosom of every sect and denomination on earth
absolutely one.

I defy any man to go into an assembly of Christians
drawn from various sects and denominations and distinguish
one from the other by the prayers they pray, because
there before God they are giving expression to that faith
which the ever-present Spirit is teaching to them in the
living wants, experiences, and hopes of their souls, and that
faith is one. Let our hearts get all aglow with love and our
souls full of joy under the touch of the Saviour's love shed
abroad in our hearts, and our tongues break forth into singing
the same grand old hymns.

In those olden times, when controversy was bitter in
the Church, an old Arminian hero got happy one day and
began to sing. And as he sang the whole Church gathered
around to listen; and as they listened other hearts got all
aglow and other tongues began to sing until the Church
universal joined old Charles Wesley in the singing of that
grand old hymn:

“Jesus, Lover of my soul,Let me to thy bosom fly.”

Let me tell you, sirs, that hymn expresses the faith that
lives and burns in the hearts of God's people of every name
on earth to-day. Again, in that olden time there was one of
those old Calvinists that got happy one day, and he too began
to sing; and as he sang the hearts of God's people
again responded to the singing, and to-day the Church
universal delights to join old Toplady in singing:

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me,Let me hide myself in thee.”

That hymn expresses the faith that lives and burns in
the heart of every true child of God on earth, in every
denomination.

III. One Baptism.

This is not water baptism. A man may be baptized
with water baptism and be lost. You don't think so? Then
read Mark xvi. 16, and you will see that the Lord himself
said so. A man may be saved who has never been baptized
with water baptism. The thief on the cross was.
But, friends, there is a baptism that none are ever lost
who are baptized with; none are ever saved without it.
That baptism is the baptism of the Holy Ghost, and that
baptism belongs to the Church universal. No denomination
has a right to claim as its own exclusive privilege
this baptism whereby the Lord himself baptized his own
people. No denomination on earth has the power to
administer this baptism, and none has the right to forbid
the Lord to give it unto whom he please. This baptism
is the efficient cause of all experimental religion on earth.
If you could find a Church where there are no repentings
of sin, no prayers for mercy, no praisings of God, no
humility of life, no tender love of the brethren, no kind
charities for the poor, no honesty of living, and no
rejoicing in the Lord, then, dear friends, would you find a
Church destitute of the baptism of the Holy Ghost; but
that Church is also a dead Church and no part of the living
body of Christ. Will any of us dare claim that these graces
of the Spirit are to be found only in our denomination,
and that all outside our lines of the apparent visible kingdom
of Christ is barren waste and fruitless hypocrisy?
Then, dear friends, if we say it from the heart, that only
proves that we ourselves have never been baptized with
the Lord's one baptism. Pride, exclusive boastings,
censorious judgment of the brethren are fruits, not of God's
Spirit, but of that spirit that now works in the children
of disobedience. The fruits of God's Spirit are meekness,
humility, gentleness, brotherly kindness, charity; and these
are found among the members of every denomination.
Where the fruits are, there must the Spirit be also.

So this one baptism is common to all, believed in by all,
prayed for by all, hoped in by all; the glory of no one
denomination, but the glory and the living bond of unity of
the kingdom of the one Lord. And by this baptism God's
people everywhere are being actually washed from the
filthiness of the flesh and being made clean against the
day of the coming of the Son of Man that he may present
them all before his Father with joy a perfected Church,
being unblamable and unreproachable in his sight—a
glorious Church having neither spot, nor wrinkle, nor blemish,
nor any such thing.

“One Lord, One Faith. One Baptism.”

Now, brethren, love, pray for, and cherish your own
denomination. Why? Because it is in the bosom of that
denomination, through her forms and ministry, that the
one Lord has come to your heart, breathing into it the one
faith of his people, and baptizing that one faith with the
one baptism of the Holy Ghost. Again, it is through her
forms and in her labors that you express your hearts' love
to, faith in, and obedience to the one King. Surely that
which is the means through which my Lord comes to me
and touches me with his love and enriches me with his
gifts, and through which I give back to him the tokens of
my love, faith and obedience, ought to be very holy in my eyes.

But, dear brethren, do not let us dishonor the Lord nor
grieve his blessed Spirit by growing narrow in our love
and bigoted in our opinions until we can see no beautiful
fruits of God's Spirit outside of our own denomination.
Have you the one Lord, the one faith, and the one baptism?
So have they. If the Lord himself is willing to come to
them in their forms and bless them through their ordinances,
take care how you despise what the Lord himself
has touched to bless.

Dear friends, you are not in the kingdom at all. You
stand outside and despise all, saying you will have none
of any of these sects. Dear friends, the kingdom runs all
through these denominations, and everywhere throughout
that kingdom is the one Lord, the one faith, and the one
baptism, but they are nowhere outside the bounds of the
kingdom. Tell me: How can a man be saved without
Christ? and how can a man have Christ as his Lord who
lives daily in disobedience to his two great commands,
“Confess me before men” and “Do this in remembrance of
me?” The one faith is the faith of disobedience, and the
one baptism is the baptism unto obedience. If, then, you
have not the spirit to obey the commands, “Confess me”
and “Do this in remembrance of me,” neither have you the
one Lord, the one faith, and the one baptism.

Dear friends, somewhere and in some way get inside
the one great kingdom of God and of his Christ; then shall
you find salvation full and free, and your heart will rejoice
in the one Lord, the one faith, and the one baptism.

After a run of two days and nights from Louisville,
our porter shouted “Washington!” and we were at the
depot made memorable by the assassination of President
James A. Garfield. I saw the spot where the President
fell bleeding from the wound of Guiteau's smoking
revolver. My very inmost soul shuddered as I
thought of the awful tragedy which robbed the American
people of one who was intrusted with the honorable
position that is the highest gift of the nation. This
incident was thought to be in part due to the intimate
relation existing between the President and Mr. James
G. Blaine, of Maine, the greatest of all Americans.

I had seen many cities, but the city of Washington
surpassed anything I had ever seen. Millions upon
millions of dollars had been and were still being
lavished upon it. All sorts and styles of public buildings
are to be seen. The streets are overlaid with the finest
stone, making it absolutely free from filth and mud.
Washington, the beautiful city of Washington!

While there I stopped with Mr. and Mrs. George W.
Sims, a highly accomplished family, who never
suffered us to want for anything which would tend to
increase our comfort.

CHAPTER XVII.

Work of the General Conference of 1882—My Resolution to
Aid Israel Chapel Adopted by the General Conference—
Visiting Congress, the Supreme Court, and Other Places
of Interest in Washington, D. C.

ON Wednesday morning the General Conference was
called to order by Bishop W. H. Miles, of Louisville,
Ky., with but little more than a quorum present. Mrs.
C. W. Poe, who was a most excellent woman, true to her
Church and truer still to Christ, was President of the
Woman's Missionary Society of Texas; hence she visited
the General Conference, hoping that it might provide
for a Woman's Missionary Society for the connection.
This was contemplated by the brethren, but was
deferred till the next general session, as Bishop Miles and
the Committee on Missions disagreed.

The Colored Methodist Episcopal Church suffered a
long time and is suffering still for the want of a
suitable financial system in the government of the Church.
At the time of the meeting of the General Conference
there was no provision made for any departmental interest
of the Church except that of the bishopric. Every
other interest went unprovided for. But the heart of the
Church was now stirred as never before. That something
must be done was the all-inspiring topic among
the brethren. But the majority of the delegates were
new and inexperienced men. Though they knew what
was wanted, they could not formulate a system upon
which a majority could agree.

As usual, the various Churches in the city were to be
furnished with preachers from the Conference. Rev.
Mr. Smith, of Tennessee, preached the opening sermon for
the Conference at Israel Chapel, and all were delighted
with his effort. On the following day it was announced
that Elder M. F. Jamison, of Texas, would preach at
Israel Colored Methodist Episcopal Church. Then I
trembled as never before. I had preached in Little
Rock, Memphis, and Louisville; and though applauded
in these cities, I now felt a loss that shook my very soul.
“What? Me to preach in Washington City? I cannot.”
But I overcame all fears by having communion with
Christ, and I preached. I enjoyed the manner in which
that vast audience received the word of Christ Jesus.
They said that “Fighting Joe” measured up to the
standard all along the line.

Rev. I. H. Anderson, of Mississippi, was assigned to
preach at Asbury Chapel Methodist Episcopal Church.
This Church was a mixed congregation of white and
colored, and one would think there were nothing but
critics in Asbury Chapel if he would regard the statements
of ministers who attempted to preach there during
the Conference. When Rev. Anderson returned to
Conference Monday morning, he heard many chilling
remarks respecting his failure to entertain Asbury's
congregation the previous day. Rev. J. K. Daniels, of
Tennessee, was assigned to Asbury's pulpit for the
following Sabbath night. They would chill your blood
with their unfavorable criticisms in case you failed to
measure up to their expectations. Daniels leaped headlong
into the unfathomable depths of Revelation, and
was engulfed by the waves of mysteries that baffled the
skill of the deepest thinkers of ages. With these facts
and conditions before them, very few of the brethren
cared to preach for Asbury. One Saturday morning I
was sitting in the minister's study reading when the
Committee on Public Worship, with Bishop Miles, was
filling the various pulpits for Sunday. I heard my name
mentioned; but my attention being fixed on what I was
reading, I did not know just what was being done
until the committee had dispersed. Then Rev. W. T.
Thomas remarked to me: “You are to preach at Asbury
Chapel Sunday at 11 A.M.; and I feel it my duty
to say that you have been selected from the fact that
you will bring credit to the Church and Conference,
and because you will not put on any fantastic airs,
thereby making yourself ridiculous.” At first I wanted
to decline; but I braced up, and when the Sabbath bells
began to sound forth their sweet melodies I made haste
and was soon on my way to Asbury.

Upon my arrival I met the pastor, Rev. Mr. Carroll,
who tried to appear as though satisfied. Still I saw that
he felt disappointed at my appearance. I wore common
apparel, for I was a common man. However, he introduced
me to his people, and I waited until the opening
services had been conducted by him, the congregation
reading in concert. I then began to preach to them
the “meek and lowly Jesus.” I preached not myself
to those people, but Christ Jesus, which was the theme
and burden of my soul. After I had explained the text,
the responses were quite hearty among the Christians.
Though the preacher, Rev. Mr. Carroll, was slow in
responding, yet he came in at the last quite freely. I
understood what he thought was wanting in me, for my
style was what made him indifferent; but it will not
always do to size up a minister by his appearance,
manner, or style. I did not go over to Asbury to put on
style, but to preach Christ. When I had discharged
that pleasant duty, I departed, leaving the results
of the efforts and what was said of it and of me with the
congregation. It was the third day thereafter that Mrs.
Sims, my hostess, went over in that part of the city,
where she learned that the general sentiment was that
the Texas man, Jamison, was good enough for Asbury,
and a desire to have him return and preach again was
general. I confess that these tidings were pleasing to
me, though I blushed a little when informed of them
in the presence of some ladies. Hollingsworth, my roommate,
after trying to tease me, told Mrs. Sims that that
was common with “Fighting Joe,” for he generally manages
to appear as near nobody as possible, especially
among strangers.

Of all the ministers present, I thought Rev. E. Cottrell
the most able in the pulpit, though the Rev. J.
W. Bell was very, very popular among the Washingtonians.
He had once served Israel Church as its pastor,
during which time he had made a host of friends.
Revs. E. W. Mosley, O. T. Womack, N. B. Smith, and
B. Smith ranked high; but the best man in the Conference
was Rev. J. M. Mitchell, the jolliest old man I
ever met. I heard E. W. Mosley at his best one night
before the Israelites. He truly did impress me.

I attended a social of the Sunday school at Israel
Church, and thought it very fine; but there I saw great
respect paid to bright colors. Black was not in demand.
Nine-tenths of the children were mulattoes. This was
detestable to the delegates who took note of it.

The labor of that General Conference was a failure
from a legislative point of view, which was due to a
disposition to dictate as to what should be the course of
legislation. Nothing could be enacted that did not
meet the approval of the bishops, although several good
measures were presented to the Conference. The bishops
would defeat them by controlling a majority of the
delegates, and especially the laymen. When this fact
became evident, the brains of the Conference revolted
and nothing of note was accomplished. I, for one, was
heartily sick of seeing the bishops so often on the floor
debating. I saw that no good could come out of that
state of affairs. A bishop would debate with his brethren
while he presided, which was contrary to the usages
of all deliberative bodies. This practice had to be
stopped or it would have been useless and vain to
assemble in General Conference sessions. The bishops
took issue with me, and, sorry to say, I fear they have
never thought very much of me since. I have often
thought that my charge has been assigned me many
times with this in view, but there was no help for it.

I worried over the notorious routing of what should
have been business, and served notice that I intended to
leave for Texas the following Tuesday. This rather
displeased some of the friends, much to my regret. Still
I saw nothing to detain us longer than that date.

The Conference called on President Arthur. I did
not care to see the Acting President, but I visited
Congress and saw three hundred men legislating for the
nation. It was a novel sight to see little boys acting as
pages, running hither and thither carrying notes and
letters. Tired of seeing this, I looked in on the
Senators and saw a fatherly-looking set of men at work.
Next I viewed the Supreme Court of the United States
of America. Here I saw a grave-looking set of brainy
fathers. Leaving here, I ascended the dome of the Capitol,
the grandest building I was ever in. I thought I
saw Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey, Virginia, and
Connecticut in the distance. The scenery was picturesque
in the extreme. I visited the Smithsonian
Institution. Here I saw the wonders of the ancient and
modern worlds, and all sorts of fowls and beasts
preserved as though they were alive.

The educational interests of the Church came in for
a large discussion and resolutions; but, sad to say, the
bishops considered the poverty of the Church and of the
people too great to justify the hope of any measure
receiving support from them. Bishop L. H. Holsey
advocated the idea of going before the General Conference
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, then
in session at Nashville, Tenn., and putting in a plea for
aid from that Church. After some deliberation a
motion to that effect prevailed, and Bishop Holsey was
commissioned to go and place our needs before that
Church. This he did, and the Conference took up the
matter with much spirit; and even up to this date the
Methodist Episcopal Church, South, has not responded
with much heartiness. Yet Paine College, at Augusta, Ga.,
is the infant school of that Conference. The great
majority of leading ministers of that Church, with a
few laymen and women, instituted Paine College.
It has grown to be a great school, and will be greater
still in the near future. The Methodist Episcopal
Church, South, ought to build three large colleges for
the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church, but up to
date prejudice has prevented it.

After it became evident that no good legislation could
be effected, the Conference adjourned sine die. I went
for my grip, and was soon at the depot ready to start
homeward. Many others were ready and did likewise,
among whom were Bishops Miles and Lane. We made
fast time coming South.

Bishop—seemed to think it possible that I would
leave the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church after the
treatment I received at his hands in Washington. This
I inferred from a conversation I overheard between him
and Rev. —respecting my ability to carry off a number
of members and preachers with me. But such was
not in me. I am in the Colored Methodist Episcopal
Church for good and not for harm. I suppose the
bishop doubtless learned this afterwards. When I go
into an affair, I always do so in good faith, and will
abide my time. Bishop—appeared to be in sympathy
with me respecting the disagreeable hitch
between Bishop—and me during the Conference, all
of which has worked out lovely, so far as I know; and
there is not a bishop on the bench that I respect more
than I did that bishop.

The congregation of Israel Chapel were once of the
African Methodist Episcopal Church, but they finally
withdrew on account of some trouble with the bishop,
and came over in a body to the Colored Methodist Episcopal
Church. Its membership was as fine as I ever
saw, and numbered about four or five hundred souls.
This gave us a nucleus from which the Colored Methodist
Episcopal Church has grown to be one of the
largest Methodist bodies in Washington. These people
were Israelites indeed. They wanted no second-class
position in the city, hence they built a church at a
cost of about twenty-five thousand dollars. This
created a heavy debt, under which they struggled for a long
time. Elder Jamison thought it nothing but right that
the connection should assume a part of the nine thousand
five hundred dollars then due. I worked faithfully
to secure the passage of a resolution to this effect.
I succeeded, and the first effort resulted in about nine
hundred dollars being raised by the connection for the
Israel Church. But they had some kind of a wrangle by
which Israel lost seventy-five members, who went out
and organized another Colored Methodist Episcopal Church.
This split, while injuring Israel to some extent, worked
to the general spread of the denomination in the city. A
general fund of twenty cents was assessed each member
and minister of the entire Church, three cents of which
was set apart for the two Churches in Washington, which
amounted to three thousand dollars per annum.

Since visiting Washington I have always had the
fondest hopes of Israel's future greatness. Rev. W. T.
Thomas, of Alabama, was its pastor at the time of the
General Conference, and a worthy young man he was,
though he did not render general satisfaction. Rev.
J. W. Bell had pastored Israel with success. Fitzhugh
was a failure in Israel. Rev. R. S. Williams, of Texas,
was a favorite there. Dr. C. H. Phillips was pastor there
with great success. Revs. F. M. Hamilton, J. L. Davis,
and G. W. Ursher rendered much service to the spread
of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church in
Washington.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Annual Conference of 1882—Difficulty with the Bishop
over Financial Affairs—The Conferences of 1883 and
1884—Period of Work on Circuits and Stations Made
Memorable—Acting as Counselor for Some of the Brethren.

THE Annual Conference of 1882 convened at Henderson,
Tex., Bishop J. A. Beebe presiding. This was
by far the largest delegation ever assembled in the name
of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church in Texas.
The sessions each day were attended by large numbers
of visitors.

This session was memorable on account of an
unfortunate matter which occurred at the close of the
session. I was the President of the Board of Finance,
and had orders to forward all funds to Bishop Miles—
that is, the bishops' fund and that for Israel Chapel.
The Bishop demanded the above-named funds and twenty
dollars more for traveling expenses, to none of which
he was entitled. I protested against this upon the ground
that no traveling expenses could be exacted by any of
the bishops, and that the bishops' fund only could be
turned over to Bishop Miles. The Bishop explained
away the objections, overruled them, and took the money
(three hundred and eleven dollars and forty-five cents),
at the same time remarking that it was so arranged with
the bishops that each should receive all such moneys
raised within the bounds of his district. The Board
yielded, and the money was counted over to the Bishop.
But, sorry to say, the money fell short sixteen dollars
after he had gone sixteen miles. It was not possible to
correct anything, now that all had gone their way. The
Bishop refused to make good the sixteen dollars or to
pay back the twenty dollars for traveling expenses which
was loaned him out of the Israel money. This gave
much trouble to me, especially as Bishop Miles held me
responsible for the money. I published the facts to the
world with no uncertain sound. This hurt the Bishop
and his friends no little. It hurt me also; but, after
all, the ministers of the Conference acted shamefully
in the matter. They tried to shift the burden from the
Bishop to me. In fact, some of the leaders pleaded
ignorance, but I stood my ground and the General
Conference straightened the matter out.

My relations with the Mt. Zion Circuit, which had
been formed by six years' service, were soon to close. I
had served them four years as presiding elder and two
years as pastor. How well I performed my duty eternity
will tell. I have never served a work which gave
me more encouragement than that of the Mt. Zion
Circuit. Of course this also includes the good people
of Mt. Pleasant and Mt. Comfort Churches. I preached
to about two thousand people for two years, and retired
leaving nothing but good will. Smith, Rusk, and Gregg
Counties are noted for some of the best negroes in Texas.
It was refreshing to my soul to serve these Churches.
The meetings were always well attended, and shouting
was the order of the day; and this I enjoyed no little.
Sisters Morgan, King, Reed, Warren, Barnes, Hilburn,
Barter, Blackman, Pinkston, Webb, and
Alexander—O! the joyful noise which these and others made
unto the Lord still rings at times in my ears. The
year 1883 closed my service with that dear people, and
Conference met at Pittsburg, Tex.

The young people of the Mt. Zion Circuit were of
exceptionally good moral character. It is said that an
immoral minister, coming in contact with good girls
and women, soon lowers the standard of virtue and hoists
the floodgates of ruin, and all chastity soon departs
from that section. Such was the state of things in parts
of this circuit at the beginning of 1885. Everything
seemed besmeared with a poisonous taint. What a
great blessing a pure minister is to a community!
Moral purity of society should be one of the chief
themes of the man of God. He should never stand
looking in silence upon corruption in society. I admit
that I have suffered for my bold stand against immorality
in the Church, but I count it nothing to me when I
consider the worth of souls. When will colored people
command respect in the world so long as they indulge
in filthy immorality and corruption as practiced by their
leaders? Never. Let us therefore be true to our calling
as ministers of Christ.

I was sick and missed the Annual Conference in
1883. That Conference was not much more than a
blank in the history of the East Texas Conference. Rev.
R. W. Grundy was so disgusted at the way things
went that he left affairs with them and went home.
I would have followed his example but for the fact
that I was not there to receive the abuse which the
Bishop and the Conference were prepared to heap upon
me. All this trouble grew out of the money transactions
of the previous session. They were seeking to get
on the good side of the Bishop, and consequently had
donated to him the twenty dollars that Bishop Miles was
raising so much noise about. Some even said that
Jamison had the sixteen dollars of which Bishop—
was minus. The Bishop, good as he was, had made a
mistake which could not be corrected by all the queer
statements of the different leaders. At first most of
these leaders were with Jamison; but that was before the
Bishop came, of course.

I was left without an appointment for 1884, and was
referred to a committee whose duty it was to investigate
me to see if I would retract what I had affirmed
concerning the money matters of 1882. This I would
not do, and yet that committee refused to file charges
against me.

I was now free to preach to those people who wanted
my services, but was not allowed to enjoy that sweet
freedom long. Rev. Womack, the presiding elder,
assigned me to Marshall Station, removing Rev. A. W.
Whitaker, which was done to please the whims of a few
soreheads there. I did little good at Marshall. My
wife protested against my serving Marshall Station; and
when I obeyed the elder and went on duty there, she
made it very uncomfortable for me when the income
proved short and insufficient. I thought I paid very
dearly for my position in that money transaction; but,
at any rate, I held on to my post.

The Annual Conference of 1884 convened at Crockett,
with Bishop L. H. Holsey presiding. A pleasant time
was had, and all things went off nicely, so far as the
Conference work was concerned. But there was a chilly
sensation hovering over the brethren, out of which no
comfort could come, The Democrats had by fraud won
the election of Grover Cleveland to the presidency over
Mr. James G. Blaine, of Maine. This was rumored
many days before it was finally affirmed. There was no
cause for sadness on our part, for it made but little or
no difference to the negroes or to any one else except
the office seekers. Mr. Cleveland made a very fair President,
I think, though I could not see it and would not
sanction any measure that he advocated, because he was
a Democrat. He was a free trader of the truest type,
and on that account many Democrats forsook the party.
Many more Democrats quit their party because Mr.
Cleveland did not turn Republicans out of office fast
enough to suit them. All of this helped to defeat him in 1888.

At this Conference Bishop Holsey assigned me to the
Leesburg Circuit. I was no stranger to the officials
here, as most of them knew me by some means before
I visited the circuit. Hon. George Jones was head and
shoulders above the West Chapel division, and was one
of the soundest Christians I ever met. Bob Caldwell
was a great man. He was generally liberal toward the
Church, and this counted for much when it is remembered
that he was a man of considerable means and
influence. Dennis Bufford and D. Ladd stood head at
Mt. Lebanon, a church in the piney woods of Upshur
County. The house had no door or window shutters.
Nothing praiseworthy can be said of Mt. Lebanon.
They would not finish their church nor build another. It
was cold here, and the wintry winds made it very
uncomfortable to worship at that season of the year. When
spring set in and the birds were all out in beautiful
plumage and with sweet songs, the seed ticks would cover
one and almost drive him insane. Notwithstanding
all this, I liked Mt. Lebanon.

Joe Culberson, Christon, and others stood head at
Oak Grove Church. Henry Williams was collecting
steward at Mt. Zion. Mr. Joe Mangum was the old
chief among the sinners, yet he was a free-hearted
gentleman with his means. In fact, he was the wealthiest
negro in that part of the country. Mr. Stephen Waddleton
and Mr. Stephen Meadows were truly good citizens
and good Christians, and they possessed good farms.
Mr. Abe Mangum was a splendid man, one whom everybody
respected very highly.

Of the four Churches, Mt. Zion thought more of its
pastor than any of the rest, and the people seemed
always ready and willing to come out to enjoy preaching.
At each monthly meeting they paid the pastor by roll
call, and generally all paid their dimes. At Conference
we were only ten dollars short of the claims.

Oak Grove stood second in 1885 and 1886. West
Chapel stood first in 1885, but fourth and last in 1886.
I made a mistake in moving my family to West Chapel
in 1886. Wife was very much displeased with the place.
This and some of the people made it harder on me.

Conference met at Sulphur Springs in 1885, with
Bishop Beebe presiding. This was a session of great
interest, and was very largely attended. The Bishop
was at home in the chair of this Conference, having
presided over its affairs for many years.

Rev. George Byrd was an applicant for readmission
into the traveling connection, and had O. T. Womack
as his champion. Not knowing that Brother Byrd
could be of any real benefit to the traveling ministry, I
opposed his readmission and defeated it. Brothers Byrd
and Womack felt sore over their defeat and resolved to
try it over the next day. Womack went off as if with
a great blast of trumpets, endeavoring to create sympathy
for Rev. Byrd; but unfortunately for Byrd,
Womack made a mistake by assailing some of the
acknowledged leaders of the Conference at the expense
of Byrd and his case. I pushed up my sleeves and
went for them both. Hot words passed and feeling was
high; but when the vote was taken, Rev. Byrd was farther
behind than ever. He was too old to be thinking
of joining the Conference. He died the next year.

Serious charges were brought to the attention of the
Conference against Revs. H. P. Hollingsworth and N.
Hancock, which, if proved, would have been sufficient
cause to warrant their expulsion from the Conference
and the Church. A committee was appointed to
investigate the charges. Both brothers appealed to me
for aid and counsel. After thinking over their cases, I
decided to defend Hollingsworth, but requested Hancock
to employ Womack or Moore for his counselor. The
committee decided to meet in Tyler on the first Thursday
in January, 1886. I was retained as counselor for
Hollingsworth, as stated above, and Womack for Hancock.
P. J. Jones and William Taylor were engaged as
prosecutors for the Church. They called the case against
Hancock first; and after all the evidence was admitted,
P. J. Jones opened the case for their side, followed by
John Raines, who was assisting Womack. Next came
Womack himself, who made a strong plea for Hancock;
then Taylor closed with the greatest effort of his life.
The case then went to the committee, who rendered a
verdict of guilty; so our Brother Hancock was expelled.

Now, I felt that the verdict of the committee in the
case of Hancock would prove hazardous in the case of
my friend and brother H. P. Hollingsworth, not because
the evidence was so convincing, but because it might
appear that as one was found guilty it would naturally
lead to the conviction of the other also. This must be
removed from the minds of the committee before there
was any hope for Hollingsworth, and it was up to me
to remove it. This was done by a strong effort on my
part. Taylor with some difficulty did his best to
convince the committee that Hollingsworth was guilty, but
he found one on the other side who was noted for his
jurisprudence, and who had lost but one case in his life,
and the facts in that case were quite different. I managed
to clear Hollingsworth; but, strange to say, like
Mr. S. L. Lowe at Marshall in 1880, he never thanked
me in the least for so doing, and in after years was
willing to fight against me or keep silent while I was in
the flames of a wrong, cruel, and slanderous fire. The
reader will doubtless conclude that I have witnessed
some pretty warm controversies in the Church of God,
and that I was in a few myself, which is all true.

The Bishop read out his appointments for 1886,
returning me to the Leesburg Circuit. I had hoped for a
better appointment; but it was thought that, as I had
done so well on that circuit—purchasing a one-hundred-
and-eighty-dollar bell, building a new church, and adding
ninety-three souls to the Church—I should be returned
and allowed to finish the work so well begun.
But it proved a delusion.

TEXAS COLLEGE, GIRLS' DORMITORY.

The Caldwell faction and the Jones faction squabbled
about the school. Caldwell was the great schoolman,
and Jones was the great churchman. It had
been the rule to run a ten months' session during the
year—seven months' free school and three months'
subscription school at one dollar and fifty cents per month
for each student. Now, in order to do this the two
factions had always pulled together; but owing to short
crops that year, Jones foresaw the impossibility of paying
the preacher and running a pay school at the same
time. The teacher had married the daughter of Mr.
Caldwell, the great school champion, and the refusal to
carry on the ten months' session was regarded as a
stroke at the school champion and his family. He withdrew
his aid from the Church, thus weakening its financial
interests. The general claims necessarily went up
minus a few dollars, and the pastor fell seventy-five
dollars short in his own claims. Such was the result
of the division in the West Chapel community that
Conference year. I paid dearly, I thought, for these
two leaders' differences. It was no fault of mine, and
yet I sustained the greatest loss. I held my peace by
holding my tongue, for both were good to me. Prof.
Joseph Anderson was teacher, and carried on one of the
best schools in Texas. He has prepared and equipped
some of the best teachers to be found in the public
school service in the State. Our friend, R. A. Caldwell,
was deserving of praise for the successful prosecution
of the grand work. I have never seen a colored
man more devoted to the educational interests of his
race than Mr. Caldwell. Though I liked them all, I
had decided not to serve them again as pastor.

CHAPTER XIX.

Transferred to the West Texas Conference—Presiding Elder
of the Dallas District—Pastor of Fort Worth Station—
Down with Pneumonia—Assigned to Weatherford
Station—Birth of Little Roscoe Conkling Jamison.

THE Conference of 1886 met at Tyler. I was two
days late. However, I came in all right, and it was
said that everything took on new life. There were two
of the ministers who were accused of deserting their
wives; and when it was proved to be true, they were
left without appointments. We thus set an example for
other Churches, but I cannot say that they followed it.

Rev. Viney and I were transferred to the West Texas
Conference. Viney was stationed at Dallas, and I was
placed on the Dallas District. Things ran well for a
season, but at the District Conference we struck the
breakers and quicksands. Revs. Booker and Viney
sought to find fault with me as presiding elder. Both
were wrong, so the bishop stated; but the fact that they
were hostile toward me afforded the bishop a trivial
excuse for removing me from the district, which was
what they so much desired. This having been done,
they were satisfied. In removing me they thought that
there would be a chance for one of them, but the bishop
took good care not to give either of them the position.

After brooding over the change that was made at
Gainesville in 1887, we gathered up our belongings and
went to serve the Fort Worth Station. These were the
best people I had served. They were alive to the pastor's
interests, and therefore took great interest in
locating him comfortably. The stewards furnished a neat
house of three rooms and gave the pastor five hundred
dollars. These were Rollins, Upshaw, Smith, and
George. In sending me to Fort Worth Station the
bishop said that, though it looked hard to change me,
he did so because they wanted a church built at Fort
Worth, and that made it necessary for me to go. As
previously stated in these pages, the A. M. E.'s and
M. E.'s had dealt dreadful blows to the C. M. E.'s
throughout North Texas. Our ministers could not
withstand them. It was freely admitted that Rev. Jamison
was the lion of the C. M. E. Church in Texas; so
when the Church was assailed in the West, the bishop
sent Jamison there to defend it. This fact made Jamison
powerful and popular throughout the Church and
Texas. He put the Church in motion, and in about
three months we raised nearly five hundred dollars.
But in August, 1888, I was attacked by pneumonia, and
for five weeks it was said that I could not live. Bishop
Lane said when he met me at Dallas in November, 1888,
that he never expected to see me again. Strong and
fervent prayers went up in my behalf. I finally
recovered, but such was the state of my health that I had
to give up Fort Worth Station.

I was entirely satisfied when Bishop Lane changed
me to the Weatherford Station, though Mrs. Jamison
was far from being satisfied, because she began to think
that these changes were made to subdue the man; but
I soon rid her mind of such thoughts, and we placed
Weatherford in such fine shape that from 1889 to the
present date it has stood among the best stations of the
West Texas Conference. There were but few cities or
towns in Texas the morality of whose people was better
than that of the people of Weatherford. There was
music in the homes, music in the church, and music in the
Sunday school. And nothing acts so strongly in toning
up the moral senses of the young as music. Next to
home training in the development of the youth is
music. Where there is a lack of music in the home and the
church one can easily note a dearth of interest in pushing things.

The Lord greatly favored us at Weatherford. It was
just fifteen years since Willie, our eldest son, was born,
and during this time not another child was born to us.
But just as we had decided that such a blessing was not
again to be ours it so happened that on the morning of
May 2, 1890, the Lord sent us another little son from
New York. After much rejoicing over the little stranger,
we named him for Roscoe Conkling, the New Yorker.
This event has ever since made Weatherford seem
dear to us. When we have educated Roscoe, we expect to
send him back to old Weatherford to practice medicine.

Weatherford is a highly elevated and healthful city.
As long as I live I shall never forget Revs. A. B. Prime
and Henry Johnson, resident members of the West Texas
Conference. We used to lie down on the beautiful green
grass and discuss matters of interest respecting the
Church. Johnson died in 1891. Prime still lives and
is of much use to the Church.

CHAPTER XX.

Advocating a Church Extension Board—Made Honorary
Member of the General Conference of 1890—Elected
Secretary of Church Extension.

THE Colored Methodist Episcopal Church was organized
out of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, in
1870, and thereby was made an independent body; hence
it devolved upon the bishops and a few leaders to
perfect and extend the organization. To this end they set
about the task. There were other Negro Methodist
Churches, and many thousands of those who were really
our members were gathered into these Churches before
we were organized. Our work was being extended from
east to west and from north to south, but after a lapse
of twenty years it was found that the Church was in
great need of money to extend its borders. Our people,
like other colored folks, were poor and wasteful;
besides, they were not educated nor trained along missionary
lines. Therefore “Fighting Joe” began a discussion
advocating the necessity of creating a Church Extension
Board with auxiliary societies throughout the Church.

We kept agitating the question for two years; and
when the General Conference convened in 1890 at
Little Rock, Ark., drafts of the plan were laid before it.
Bishops Miles and Holsey seemed proud of the effort
to get abreast with the Methodist Episcopal Church and
the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, in this line of
Church work; but, sad to say, that plan met with bitter
and determined opposition. The greater opposition
came from ignorance. There were some intelligent men
who were using those of less intelligence as a means by
which to defeat the measure.

When the Church extension resolution was introduced,
it went to a special committee. Rev. R. S. Williams,
observing the trend of the discussion, felt doubtful of
the success of the resolution; therefore he wired me to
come to Little Rock on the first train. Getting out of
Weatherford on Sunday evening, I reached Little Rock
on Monday. Bishop Holsey was presiding; and when
he saw “Fighting Joe” enter the room, he said to the
Conference: “I see ‘Fighting Joe.’ I wish some one
would bring him forward. I feel it a rare treat to have
him present at the Conference.” Drs. E. W. Mosley
and E. Cottrell took “Fighting Joe” by each arm and,
going forward, said: “Bishop, we are exceedingly
delighted to present to you Rev. M. F. Jamison, of
Texas.” The Bishop in turn presented the Texan to the
Conference amid great applause.

So favorable was the impression produced by this
incident that the friends of Church extension thought
that if the Conference could hear the author of the
resolution explain its objects and its plan of operation
it would materially increase its chances of passage.
Therefore Rev. E. Cottrell made a motion, which was
seconded by Revs. Mosley and Williams, to admit Rev.
Jamison to all privileges of a delegate except voting.
This motion was strongly opposed by Revs. A. K.
Hawkins, R. T. Brown, C. H. Phillips, G. W. Stewart, and
others. After much discussion pro and con, Bishop
Lane, who was presiding, ruled the motion out of
order. It soon became evident that a majority of the
Conference dissented from this ruling. So on the following
day the motion was again offered. Bishop Miles being
in the chair, he ruled that the motion was in order, that
the General Conference possessed the power of a sovereign,
and that it might adopt one rule to-day and
change it to-morrow. The motion was finally put, and
it was carried by a large majority. Thus the Conference
expressed its esteem and confidence in “Fighting
Joe” by conferring upon him an honor never before nor
since given to any one within the bounds of the
Colored Methodist Episcopal Church. From this period
dates the history of the division in the Church. There
were now two factions in the Church, with Revs. C. H.
Phillips, R. T. Brown, G. W. Stewart, and A. K. Hawkins
heading one faction, and Revs. R. S. Williams, E.
Cottrell, E. W. Mosley, F. M. Hamilton, I. H. Anderson,
and M. F. Jamison leading the other. The latter
seemed to win out at Little Rock in 1890. M. F. Jamison
was elected Secretary of Church Extension; F. M.
Hamilton, Editor of the Christian Index; I. H. Anderson,
Book Agent; and Dr. E. Cottrell, Educational Commissioner.

No bishops were elected. Dr. C. H. Phillips was
returned to the pastorate.

CHAPTER XXI.

Work of Church Extension—Elected Editor of the Christian
Index.

IT was conceded by all that the progressive side
had won out in 1890, as it succeeded in placing the
Church on higher ground, a position which brought
prosperity and recognition to the Church. Four general
officers added greatly to the prestige of the Church.
Secretary Jamison and Commissioner Cottrell swept
the field from east to west and from the lakes on the
north to the gulf on the south. These departments
being new, it required much labor on the part of these
secretaries to produce commendable results. Secretary
Jamison was popular everywhere. The people were
coming from far and near to hear “Fighting Joe.” In
Georgia, the native State of the learned Holsey and the
home of the wise, a woman said to Bishop Holsey after
listening to “Fighting Joe:” “If I had five hundred
dollars, I would freely give it to Church extension.”

In Augusta, Ga., Dr. George Williams Walker picked
up an evening paper which said that “Fighting Joe”
would lecture that night in Trinity Church. Gathering
a dozen or more of his students from Paine College,
they faced one of the coldest nights and listened to
“Fighting Joe” tell what he saw in Baltimore—his
description of the Methodists of the world on dress
parade. The Doctor said he would not have missed
hearing “Fighting Joe” for one hundred dollars.

I traveled over a large part of Alabama and lectured,
much to the delight of both ministers, members, and
people in general. In five weeks I raised the sum of
five hundred and forty-four dollars. Such was the
brilliant success of the Secretary of Church Extension,
M. F. Jamison, in Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana,
Texas, and, in fact, nearly everywhere.

In 1892 there arose a difference between the Book
Agent, I. H. Anderson, and the Editor of the Christian
Index, Rev. F. M. Hamilton, which caused the latter to
resign, whereupon Agent Anderson appointed Dr. R.
T. Brown to fill the vacancy as Editor. When the General
Board met in 1893, the right to fill said vacancy
was denied the Agent, whereupon Bishop Holsey made
a motion for the election of M. F. Jamison as Editor
of the Christian Index. To this Jamison made two
objections: First, that it might so seriously divide his time
that he would not be able to follow out his plans in the
Church Extension Department; and, in the second place,
he feared that it would create petty jealousy among those
who were seeking promotion in the Church. But these
objections were overruled, and Jamison was elected
Editor of the Christian Index to fill the unexpired term
of Rev. F. M. Hamilton, who had resigned.

We shall see in another chapter how true was my
prediction relative to the result of this act of the General
Board.

CHAPTER XXII.

Death of Bishop W. H. Miles—The General Conference of
1894—Election of Bishops and General Officers—Defeat of
Church Extension—Rapid Development of Factions.

THE sainted Bishop Miles having passed from labor
to his eternal reward, it was almost certain that two
more bishops would be elected at the next session of the
General Conference. Many were the names discussed
in connection with this exalted position as to their fitness,
etc. As all could not be elected, the discussion was finally
restricted to Revs. Robert S. Williams, Charles H.
Phillips, and E. Cottrell as prime men. The idea of
naming or boosting men for this holy place was so
distasteful to Dr. C. H. Phillips that he wrote me a private
letter requesting that I allow no one to mention his
name through the Index in connection with the bishopric.
His request was granted, and we kept the names
of the other two men before the Church.

Thus the balloting resulted in the election of Revs.
Williams and E. Cottrell. Their election has proved the
wisdom of the Conference, for they have both wrought
wonderfully well in every good work, and especially
along educational lines.

Recognizing the educational attainments of Dr. C.
H. Phillips, the General Conference elected him editor
of the Christian Index without opposition. During his
period as editor the Doctor won great distinction as an
able writer.

When the Secretary of Church Extension submitted
his report, on motion of Dr. J. C. Waters, seconded
by S. B. Wallace, the work of the Secretary received the
highest indorsement of the General Conference. All
admitted that the success of that department was simply
phenomenal, but there were those who were opposed to
the Secretary. They felt that he had figured largely in
the scheme which defeated them in their purpose. They
therefore formed pretexts upon which to make it appear
necessary to work for the suspension of the Church
Extension Department. With the aid of one or two of the
bishops, they finally suspended the work of Church
extension, thus destroying one of the most essential
departments of the Church.

Those friends who entered into the scheme to defeat
Church extension in order to reach Secretary Jamison
were very good men; but, to say the least of it, they
were small men. Two or three of their leaders sought
higher heights in the Church, and sought in tears
before they attained them. Only one of them has as yet
reached the goal, and that, too, after much worry and
disappointment. “Fighting Joe” loved Church extension
more than any other work in the Church, and
he felt keenly humiliated by its being suspended.
However, there was a splendid field in Texas, and
“Fighting Joe” cheerfully entered it and worked as if he did
not mind crosses.

It is amusing now to see how distrustful my friends
of 1894 have became toward me. They finally reached
the place where they felt the need of my influence; but
they had dealt so unjustly with me that they would not
believe that I could be induced to take part with them
in any movement.

So it will be seen that the defeat of Dr. Phillips for the
bishopric and the suspension of the work of Church
extension had a tendency to create a faction in the Church
still greater than that of 1890, and thus it stood for
sixteen years. Dr. Phillips was elected bishop at Nashville,
Tenn., in 1902, but he was not elected by a faction.
There being no other man before the Church, he was
given 131 votes out of a total of 164. The Church had
grown tired of what threatened to be a rupture in its
ranks, and, following the advice of Bishop Williams,
they elected the Doctor bishop, giving him the largest
vote ever given to a bishop in the history of the Church.
Dr. Brown, having stood with Bishop Phillips, was
elected editor of the Christian Index, defeating Drs.
Carter, Mosley, and Doyle. Thus what had been the
Phillips and Brown faction, after losing at Columbia,
S. C., in 1898, won out in 1902, twelve years after
entering the field.

On all sides it was now the hope that the Church
would be allowed to proceed to work out its destiny free
from factional office seekers; but, alas! the trouble had
just begun. For six years there was bitterness raging
almost everywhere in the Church. The strange thing
about it was that our friends Phillips, Brown, and the
“Invincibles,” as they finally called themselves, so
seriously impressed one among my first admirers, Dr. R.
A. Carter, that he thoughtlessly united himself with
that faction, which caused him to lose all at Augusta,
Ga., in May, 1910.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Received the Degree of Doctor of Divinity—The General
Conference of 1910—Elected Bishop of the Colored M. E.
Church.

THOUGH deprived of a classical education, I applied
myself to the study of the Scriptures until I won the
degree of Doctor of Divinity from Texas College in 1908.

In a previous chapter I stated that I felt that some
day and in some way my labors in Texas would be
rewarded. The General Conference of 1910, which was
to meet in Augusta, Ga., was anticipated as being filled
with great interest to the Church. Among the many
points of interest it was expected that at least one or
two more bishops would be elected; and, as usual, men
had their choice of men for this exalted position, and
discussions were frequent.

This discussion of choice gradually grew so intensely
interesting that it finally terminated in two great
factions in the Church, one of which was led by Bishop
C. H . Phillips, D. D., Dr. R. T. Brown, and others, and
bearing the title of “Invincibles.” The other faction
was led by Bishops R. S. Williams, E. Cottrell, and others,
and was known as the “Administratives.” It will
be seen, however, that this was the seed of the old faction
that was formed at Little Rock, Ark., in the General
Conference of 1890. The object of the Invincibles
was to elect Dr. R. T. Brown bishop over the head of
every opposing power in the Church, regardless of the
spirit which gave rise to the desired election. The policy
of the Administratives was to carry out the plan as
recommended by the bench of bishops of the Church.

Leaving Texas for the General Conference, we went
on a special train over the Cotton Belt and other lines
by way of Memphis, Nashville, Chattanooga, and Atlanta,
and from Atlanta over the old reliable Georgia into
Augusta. The pleasure of this trip was almost indescribable.
Suffice it to say that it was one of the best
it has been my pleasure to take.

The organization having been completed, the business
of the Conference was resumed. On the day that the
report of the Committee on Episcopacy was called for
it was found that the committee had failed to agree as
to the election of more bishops. By virtue of this
disagreement two reports were rendered, a majority and a
minority. The majority recommended the election of
two more bishops, while the minority recommended the
election of no bishops. A motion was made to substitute
the minority report for the majority. This motion
was lost and the majority report prevailed, hence
the recommendation to elect two bishops was sustained
by the General Conference.

This having been done, excitement of the wildest
nature over the anticipated results of the election leaped
alive in every breast like the flash of a furious flame.
The episcopal bee was now buzzing as never before
on every breeze and lurking in every bonnet. Men
seemed to have lost their reason, and by their passion and
anxiety for victory were swept from their bases.

The Invincibles and the Administratives, true to
their convictions, bravely lined up, preparing to meet
the oncoming fierce contest. Dr. G. W. Stewart and
I stood with the Administratives, while Dr. R. T.
Brown, J. W. McKinney, and others stood with the
Invincibles. Much discussion was in evidence everywhere.
The whole Church was eagerly watching and waiting as
if in breathless silence to witness the results of the
mighty struggle.

Finally, the day for the balloting for bishops having
arrived, the fight was on. The whole number of votes
was 240; necessary to a choice, 121. The result of the
first ballot was as follows: G. W. Miles, 2; N. F. Haygood, 4;
R. A. Carter, 9; A. K. Hawkins, 11; R. S.
Stout, 14; J. W. McKinney, 39; G. W. Stewart, 126;
and M. F. Jamison, 139. Thus the balloting resulted
in the election of Stewart and Jamison—a complete
victory for the Administratives. The Invincibles fell
before the Administratives as did the Midianites before
the army of Gideon.

I must confess that this was a surprise and a shock
to me. I was caught up in the Spirit, and knew not
myself. When I had in part come to myself, my friends
had me lifted from the floor above their heads and were
hurling me about the room. Long and loud was the
applause which went up in favor of the Administratives.
Nowhere in the world's history has there been a more
signal victory than that which the Administratives won
upon this occasion. To have heard the boasts and to
have seen the army of the Invincibles traveling in their
might and splendor was enough to have made the stoutest
heart quail as did the English before the tread of
the French when led on by Joan of Arc.

The news of this victory having been flashed abroad,
telegrams of congratulation now began to pour in like
showers of rain from a summer's cloud. Let us imagine
that it is now all over and the train is standing on the
track, headed for the West. The conductor shouts:
“All aboard!” The Invincibles, defeated and brokenhearted,
with heads down, slowly get aboard; while the
victorious Administratives, with great glee and happy
handshaking, lightly get on board with heads up—and
we are gone.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Entering upon the Sacred Duties of the Episcopal Office.

AFTER touring the State of Texas, visiting District
Conferences, missionary meetings, Sunday school
conventions, etc., and enjoying a season of some of the
grandest receptions ever tendered a citizen of the Lone
Star State or a member of the race of Ham, the scene
is changed, and I now find myself entering upon the
sacred and solemn duties of my episcopal office.

At Nacogdoches, Tex., November 22, 1910, dates the
beginning of my official administration, the occasion
being the meeting of the Texas Annual Conference. It
was indeed a source of the greatest pleasure and inspiration
to me to look on the faces of my many comrades
with whom I had so long labored in the trenches.
Though now elevated to the highest position in the gift
of the Church, and recognizing the weighty responsibility
now resting upon me, I felt myself, here in the midst
of my brethren, humbler than the least of them.

In this feeling of strength and weakness I was
sustained by the Spirit of the Most High and by the
constant smiles and cheers of the brethren, which demonstrated
the fact that the new administration was receiving
the most hearty approval. The brethren deported
themselves like men during the entire session of the
Conference, and their reports were most commendable.
At the close of each session congratulation after
congratulation upon the administration of the young
bishop came from visiting friends, both ladies and
gentlemen, and brethren of the Conference. Suffice it to
say that the Conference was a success in every particular.
The people of Nacogdoches did honor to themselves
in caring for the Conference, and I shall ever remember
this session as being a season of joy unspeakable,
full of glory, and crowned with good results.

From Nacogdoches we passed on to Abilene to meet
the West Texas Conference. Here we witnessed a
reproduction of what we experienced at Nacogdoches. The
reports of the brethren and loyalty of the people of
Abilene showed that they were determined to meet all
demands and to measure up to the standard of the ideal
of their “Uncle Joe,” the young bishop. Allow me to say
that their determination was a reality, for this Conference
was all that my heart could wish.

I next found myself among the big-hearted Louisianians.
Nowhere did I meet with greater results than
at the New Orleans and the Louisiana Conferences. It
is enough for me to say that they covered themselves
with glory.

Now I am back in Texas, where the drama closed
with the scenes of the East Texas Conference, which
convened at Longview. I must here be pardoned for
relating the experience which it has been mine to
witness at Longview. It was at the Annual Conference
held in Longview prior to this that I met the
disapproval of a certain bishop who seemingly sought to
humiliate me to the greatest depths of humiliation into
which a minister may descend, so far as I know. But
Providence so decreed that here where my humiliation
was sought, here I was to be elevated by having placed
upon me the greatest honor that is within the gift of the
Church to bestow.

This Conference capped the climax of the season.
Never before had I seen so many happy faces. The
brethren all had, with few exceptions, round reports in
full, and were all smiles. Quite a number of distinguished
visitors attended this Conference. They seemed
to be eagerly watching the proceedings, and were
especially noting the demeanor of the young presiding
bishop. Among the visitors was my friend and brother
Prof. G. L. Tyus, who at the close of a session advanced
to the rostrum, extending his hand, and said: “Allow
me to congratulate the young bishop upon his
proceedings. They are commendable. You seem to have
found your true place in the Church at last. Long may
you live to grace the episcopal bench!” Similar expressions
were constantly coming from the lips of many.

The spiritual, financial, and social phases of this
Conference were most flattering. With but few exceptions,
the brethren in all of my Conferences seemed to be highly
pleased with the various appointments assigned them
by the young presiding bishop.

As a demonstration of the hearty approval and appreciation
of the administration of the new bishop in Texas,
all the Conferences and the entire Board of Trustees
of Texas College decided to erect a magnificent
structure on the campus of Texas College, to be known
as Jamison Hall, in honor of the new bishop. This
building, when completed, will cost approximately
forty thousand dollars. Being much in need of two more
buildings, we may plan anew and have them erected.
Allow me to say just here that, under the management
of the new President, Prof. G. L. Tyus, A.M., Texas
College is doing well at present, and everything is being
placed in line for greater success in the future.
Professor Tyus is a graduate of Paine College, Augusta,
Ga., and has had broad experience in educational work.
For sixteen successive years he served acceptably and
successfully as President of Haygood Seminary, Washington,
Ark. He was elected President of Texas College
at a very critical period in the history of the college.
The school was heavily involved in debt to an
amount approximating ten thousand two hundred dollars.
A few months before his election one building
(Administration Hall) was destroyed by fire, resulting
in a total loss. A few days after his election a second
building (the boys' dormitory) burned, on which a
small amount of insurance was carried. The boys were
left without shelter. In addition to this disaster, just
at a period in the midst of the session when his best
work in every respect was to be done, the dreadful meningitis
broke out in the school, resulting in the death of
one of the most promising of the young lady students.
Excitement both in the college and in the city ran so
high that the city authorities forced a suspension of
the school for several weeks. This seemed to have been
the final blow to his first session. Still, in addition to
this, the creditors of the school were dunning him for
debts. Some of them were threatening to bring on lawsuits,
while others did actually sue for long-standing
debts of which the trustees of the school had no knowledge.
Often I would receive letters from President
Tyus telling me of the situation and of having no funds
with which to meet the pressing demands that were
then upon him. I would send him words of comfort,
accompanied by a little cash. He managed to pull on,
and finally closed his first session with phenomenal
success and to the entire satisfaction of every thinking
mind. I must confess that it was a delightful surprise
to me, as I thought that to hold the school together
under the circumstances would have been all that one could
reasonably expect; but, to the surprise of all, the
commencement was one of the best ever witnessed in the
history of the school. The debts have all been canceled
and we have arranged for the new building. As soon
as we close the contract with the architect the erection
of Jamison Hall will at once begin.

In connection with the sessions of the several
Annual Conferences throughout the Sixth Episcopal District,
as previously stated, the receptions given in honor
of the young bishop were superb in the extreme and
reflected unlimited credit upon those by whom these
receptions were so cordially tendered.

The work of the East Texas Conference having been
completed, the Conference season of 1910 passed into
history. Thus having reached the first milestone of my
episcopal itinerancy, I here let fall my pen and lift
up my voice in praise to Him in whom I have put my trust.

And now with joy inexpressible I recall to mind those
days of toil and pleasure, and shall ever cherish them in
my memory until the declining sun of youth shall cease
to illumine the eastern horizon of activity and for the
last time shall cast its fading light upon the evening of
my career and sink to rise no more.